Millie's Revenge
By Cal Stephens

Millie came through the door of the small diner with her cute double chin almost dragging on her shoes. I knew without being told what was bothering her. Millie was suffering through what every 19-year-old fat girl goes through. Constant ridicule from the other girls her age. I wished I could make her believe how attractive she was. At 5'3" and 185 pounds, with her flowing black hair framing the face of a cherub, she would of had no shortage of dates. But our town was as bad as anywhere in the country when it came to fat phobia. I tried to cheer her up with some light chatter as she punched in for her afternoon shift.

"Thanks for trying, Bob, but nothing can cheer me up today. That bitch Tracy." In a halting voice she told me how Tracy Rozen, the head cheerleader for the junior collage had embarrassed her in front of the whole school. There had been a pep rally after school, and Tracy had done something to Millie's uniform so that when she did one of the routines, the back of her skirt and panty combination had split open, causing Millie to moon the whole student body. As the flood of tears escaped, I put my arms around her for comfort.

"I'll get even with that bitch. I wish I could cause her to get fat!" she sobbed into my shoulder. We finished the rest of our shift without much other conversation. I silently wished I could do something to help Millie.

The following Saturday a knock on my office door gave rise to an idea that would eventually grant Millie her revenge. I opened the door to see Tracy Rozen standing there shuffling her feet uneasily.

"Hi Tracy. What brings you here so early on a Saturday?" I asked.

"Hi Mister Peters. I was wondering.... er thinking.... I mean, I need a job," she stuttered. She went on to tell me that in order for her to start college next fall she had to earn 2/3's of her tuition, and her parents just kicked her out of the house, so she needed money, and that Millie had told her that I was looking for a new window girl.

I almost sent her away without thinking. Then it dawned on me what Millie was talking about. Sharon, my old window girl, was leaving in two weeks. I told her I would be willing to give her a trial period, and to come back at 3:00 to start training. Smiling, she thanked me and left. I sat at my desk trying to figure out what Millie was planning. After all, she hated that girl, but she still sent her here for a job. I didn't have to think long. Millie bounded through my door, a big smile adorning her chubby face, making her dimples even more prominent.

"Well?" she asked expectantly.....

"Well, what?" I teased.

"Did you hire her? Did you hire Tracy?"

"Yeah, I did, but you really have me puzzled. I thought you hated her, and the next thing I know you send her in for a job. It just doesn't make sense."

Millie plopped her plump derriere on my desk and began to explain her plan to me. I listened intently to her plan of revenge. I couldn't help but get excited by the fiendishly clever idea Millie presented to me.

"It just might work," I told her. "Now get out of here so I can make some phone calls. I'll have everything on my end set by 3:00. See you then." She turned and left, the round globes of her butt rolling seductively in her tight jeans. Between her description of what she had planned for Tracy, and the sight of Tracy in jeans I knew would be unwearable in a few weeks, I had quite an erection to will down. It took the rest of the morning to make the calls that would set the rest of Millie's scheme into place. When I was done I sat back to await the start of Millie's revenge.

Millie showed up for work that afternoon a half hour before her shift would start. She looked happier than I had seen her in months.

"Is everything all set, Bob?" she asked with a smile that covered her whole face, and would have melted the hardest heart.

"Yep," I answered. "I've been on the phone all morning and everything is ready to go. I was able to get a hold of a few friends at the university, and they said they would be able to help and, I am going to put you in charge of training Tracy. One thing though, I would wait about a week or so until school is out before you go whole hog with Tracy. You wouldn't want to scare her off."

Millie chuckled at the mention of going whole hog. "If everything goes right, she'll be a hog soon enough," Millie giggled again.

It wasn't long before Tracy showed up. I took her in the office and did the normal paper work for a new employee. Then explained the rules for the diner, and what was expected of her as the window person. She couldn't have been happier. I think if I had told her part of her job was to clean the johns she would have gladly accepted. When I told her that Millie would be in charge of he training, she balked for a minute, but then agreed. I called Millie in and told her to take Tracy out and get her started.

For the rest of that day and into the week I watched Tracy. She caught on fairly quickly, and at one point I almost had a twinge of guilt over what was going to happen to her. But I let it pass quickly. I was as anxious as Millie to see her plot start to take effect. Wednesday afternoon I got a call from the university, so I wasn't surprised when Tracy come into see me.

"Uhh... Mister Peters... Could I talk to you for a minute? I've got a problem."

"Sure Tracy. And please, call me Bob. I wanted to talk to you today anyway. But you go first. It looks like something is bothering you," I answered.

"Well... Uhh.. I got a letter from the university today," she stammered. "It seems like there's some kind of problem with my scholarship, so I really need to keep this job. I mean, I'll do anything... I really mean anything to keep it." She shifted her weight in order to accent the thrust of her hips, and stuck her boyish breasts in my direction.

"Well, that's what I was going to talk to you about," I said, knowing the bait was taken. Now it was up to me to set it. "I've been watching you this week, and I really don't know...." I paused a moment and looked up at her to see if she was buying it. I saw the tears starting to form in her blue eyes before I continued. "You know that this is really a small diner, and I can't afford to have a lot of waste, and I've noticed that you have been throwing a lot of stuff away, and that costs me money," I told her sternly.

"But Bob, er, Mister Peters. I made some mistakes with the orders, and the customers wouldn't take them, and I didn't know what else to do with them. I'm sorry," she cried. "It won't happen again. I really need to keep this job. Please give me another chance."

The hook was set. All I had to do was reel it in. I pretended to be deep in thought. "Well, I really shouldn't," I answered her, "But seeing how you're new, I'll give you another chance. But just to make sure you'll be more careful, I'm going to add another rule. No more throwing away any food. If you make a mistake in an order, you eat it." The look of shock on her face was as if she had been slapped.

"I can't do that," she shot back. "Suppose I make a lot of mistakes. What will that do to my figure?" I told her that was her decision, but if she didn't agree, I would have to find someone else to do the job. Reluctantly, she agreed to the condition, and left the office. I waited until she went on break to tell Millie that Tracy was working under new rules. Millie couldn't have been happier. Everything was going according to plan.

I watched Tracy the rest of the week and she was very careful to try and not make any mistakes. Still she was obliged to eat one or two burgers and desserts each shift. School was going to be out on Friday, and if what Millie told me was true, Tracy's food intake would start to multiply rapidly. It seemed that Tracy had made quite a few enemies in her senior year, and Millie was going to make sure that each of them would know of Tracy's job description.

They started coming in the next weekend. One or two a shift would come in and place a larger order. Maybe two burgers, fries, and a large shake; or a large triple dip sundae, and when Tracy would bring it to the window, they would change the order. I walked out into the take-out area to see her sitting in the stool with three double cheeseburgers and a half eaten banana split on the counter in front of her.

"It looks like you're not having a very good day," I said, indicating the food in front of her.

"It's not me," she protested. "I get the order's right, and then the kids change their minds. These aren't my mistakes." I told her that she must have misunderstood and she should try to listen a little better. Then went on to remind her of the old saying, "The customer is always aright." She looked at me sullenly, and finished the banana split, and started in on the cheeseburger. Smiling to myself, I went out to see Millie.

"It's starting to work! Did you see her uniform?" Millie asked excitedly. "The top is starting to get tight. You know she never ate much before, so this fast food is going to really pack it on her."

I told Millie I had seen the changes, but she was starting to get the idea she was being set up. I suggested Millie work the window for a few days to show her that she must be making mistakes. The weeks slowly progressed, and by the middle of July, the impact on Tracy started to show. Her uniform was becoming increasingly strained from the forced over eating. She still had a basically slim shape, and weighed in the area of 135 pounds. But due to her daily over eating, she had developed quite a potbelly. This was enhanced by the design of her uniform pants. In spite of her overall thinness, the sight of her growing pot encased in denim stretched to the point of rending was a constant source of excitement to me. I finished making a visual inspection of her progress and returned to my office to make a call. I had to make sure the pressure from the university stayed on. My friend assured me that Tracy would continue to have problems with her tuition so she wouldeed to keep her job.

Word was really spreading about Tracy's job. She was spending more and more time eating. By the end of July it was painfully evident that she had to be re-fitted for a new uniform. The denim pants had been stretched so much by her swelling paunch that when her apron was off, you could see glimpses of nylon where the side seams separated. Her top had begun to cut into the soft flesh of her rounding upper arms. As she approached 150 pounds, her face was starting to soften; her sunken cheeks were gone.

During one of my inspections of the take-out area, I was stunned to find Tracy seated at the counter. Piled in front of her was a mound of greasy burgers that would have fed at least six people. She was engrossed in the food in front of her that she didn't even know I had came in. Millie was dividing her time between working the window and refilling Tracy's shake cup. I took Millie aside and asked her what was going on. She told me, with a grin, that Tracy had come in and mumbled something about school, and started eating. I went over to her and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around; cheeks bulging with food, grease running down her chins, and dribbling onto her swelling boobs.

I asked her what was going on with the food. She mumbled back, with her mouth full of meat, that she had just gotten another letter from the college, and that there was still a problem with her scholarship, and she was feeling depressed.

Halfway through August I startled to look at Tracy in a whole new light. The 180 pounds she carried on her 4'10" frame looked like at least 40 pounds more than it was. Her always-loaded stomach rolled out over the waistband of her sweats, her proportions having outgrown the largest denims I had to offer. Her upper arms rounded and began to crease over her elbows, and through the fabric of her pants, you could see the dimples of cellulite on her thighs and bulging derriere. Yet, she continued to gorge herself at every opportunity, and Millie was always there to help. As for me, I found myself more and more captivated by Tracy's daily binges, a fact that wasn't lost on Millie, because she had started eating more also.

At the Labor Day picnic both girls had entered into an unspoken eating contest in order to gain my attentions. Both girls now weighed over 200 pounds, and each was special in her own figure. I started over at picnic table where they were seated across from each other. Millie had a pile of fried chicken in front of her that was over-shadowed by her immense boobs. Millie had grown fat all over. Rounded face, framed by thick flowing hair that cascaded down her broad and fleshy back. The fabric of her tee shirt was stretched over her like a second skin, allowing you to see every fold and roll of her fabulous body. Her arms had grown so laden with flesh that the ribbing of her short sleeves was swallowed up by a ridge of fat. Collops and love handles peeked out seductively between her tee and overloaded sweats.

Tracy was seated on the other bench, with one of the other girls handing her pies and cakes in rapid succession. The reason being that the last 50 pounds manifested itself on the lower half of her body. Even at 215 pounds her gut had grown so huge that she could not have reached the table unless she sat sideways, a feat that would have been impossible, considering the width of her fat-laden rear end. She was encased in a custom made spandex body suit. Her huge thighs, rippled with cellulite, caused the blue fabric to shimmer in the sun. The top of the outfit was sleeveless and made her upper arms appear larger than they were. When she brought a slice of cake or pie to her plump lips, you could see the bright red stretch marks in the flesh of her corpulent arms. As I watched the two girls packing it away, I realized that I was falling in love with both of them.

I walked over to where Tracy was seated and gave her a kiss, the taste of blueberry pie lingered on my lips as I pulled away. "Hi beautiful. Having a good time?" I smiled.

She smiled back, a trace of blueberry, filling caught in the dimple at the side of her mouth. "I've got good news," She paused in her gluttony long enough to tell me that with all of her tuition problems, she had decided not to start classes until the spring semester. From the corner of my eye, I could see the look of jealousy on Millie's face, as she heaped an enormous mound of mashed potatoes with a pool of rich gravy onto her plate.

The eating war started in earnest that day, and by Halloween, both girls were close to the 300-pound mark. Millie had grown to 280 pounds and was becoming a beautiful, round, young woman. Her tremendous bust was lost, perched atop a globular belly that hid her thighs. Tracy's hips had grown so wide I had to have the doorways to my house widened, (both girls had moved in with me right after Labor Day), and even with the modifications, her hips till rubbed when she waddled through the house. I had bought over 50 pounds of candy to give out, but I wager all but 5 pounds had found its way into the bulging bellies of my two lovely sweethearts.

For Thanksgiving I had arranged with a caterer for a full dinner for 12. At noon I roused the girls and told them dinner was served. They sat at opposite ends of a long oak table groaning with food. By 6 o'clock all that remained of the feast were a pile of turkey bones, and two v-e-r-y v-e-r-y fat women. By the time Millie and I were married on New Year's Eve, Tracy was taller lying down than she would have been if she'd been able to stand. At 575 pounds, her 10' frame was too small to allow her any mobility on her own. By this time she had become addicted to food and wanted nothing more than to spend her time in unremitting gluttony.

My 500-pound bride greeted me at the altar and, with a glance at the mountain of fat that Tracy had become, announced that she had finally gotten her revenge.