chrissy

“Um, sorry, just have to go to the bathroom,” I finally said, needing a minute to collect myself. My heart was pounding a little at the sight of Kaitlin and everything she just said, the way her hand felt through to me on my thigh. “Don’t take too long, hahaha,” Kaitlin said after me as I got up. The confidence was almost unnerving—she was definitely intent on making her move at this point, I thought. Absent-mindedly and full of nerves, I opened Tinder. Yeah, I had it—why not? I was still single in the end. I swiped for a good minute… and found Kaitlin’s profile. For whatever reason I’d never encountered it before. Most of the pictures were old—like, when we just hired her, and before. Bikini pictures. A drastically far cry from the woman barely keeping her figure together just down the hall, I thought. She was playing similar games with Instagram, too—she obviously didn’t exactly want the world to know what had happened to her. Which, honestly, only made me more intent on unveiling exactly how bad it had gotten. I returned to my seat and faced Kaitlin; she faked a little yawn, which caused her black top to ride up, revealing a generous amount of honeyed flesh held back and bulging over all around her waist, front, and sides; her jeans, which I estimated at size 14s, were at their limit, and her legs lengthened her, helping hide it all when she paired it with a loose shirt. But none of that was the case here, and it was painfully obvious Kaitlin was flirting with disaster with her outfit; only her chest, which I thought may have now been an E cup, becoming a real rack moving with her every laugh and gesture, couples with her miraculously skinny face and longish legs concealed the truth. It was a fact that she obviously took advantage of, and in her desk job she barely even had to think of—but now, in real life and in situations like this, there’s no doubt she would be thought of as a bit of a catfish on a tinder date. What was clear was at some point during the summer, she decided to stop caring, at least secretly… turning her eyes to me. She looked at my leg, seeing how clear and hard I was already. “Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do… two shots, and then we’re going back to my place for coffee, and you get to watch me make it. Deal?” “I uh… deal.” Kaitlin smiled. “You’re so bad. Going home with an employee.” “Hey, it’s overtime,” I quipped, and I was rewarded with watching Kaitlin’s new body shake as she laughed. “Well… cheers to getting over your inhibitions and having a little fun?” “There’s a lot to unpack, but… yes. Cheers.” We did our shots quickly. The tension, which had built all year, was about to explode; I called an Uber and we rode over. In the back seat, I idly put my hand in Kaitlin’s; she guided it to the side of her waist, which was indescribably soft, even with the black fabric in-between. She hugged me as we rode up the elevator. “You know I thought you were super cute from day f-cking one, right?” “I mean… I try not to think about that possibility, but at this point I’ll take it, haha.” “Okay, fair… I almost with Steph didn’t tell me what was going on with you two…” “… Why’s that?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Because then…” Kaitlin opened the door to her apartment. “I probably wouldn’t have let myself friggin…” She looked me square in the eye. “Blow up in slow motion.” I audibly gulped, speechless at Kaitlin’s admission, even if it was painfully obvious at this point. “Yup…” she stepped towards me, pushing my back against the wall opposite the kitchen island. “All of this because you subconsciously live rent free in my head and I knew so early on what you like.” She traced her hands across my chest, letting me tremble. “And Steph would just tease you mercilessly and never do anything about it… and that got her bigger than I’d ever hope to, if I’m honestly. Although also if I’m honest, I never, ever thought I’d get to this point. It’s kind of insane…” “… so I think it’s time to do something about it. Before I get even bigger. Would you help me with that?” Kaitlin was back up to my ear again. I decided to be bold. “… and what if it only makes it worse?” My hands slowly wrapped around Kaitlin’s waist, and I began to slowly lift it up, fumbling for the top buttons of her jeans. “Mmmm…. I kinda do want to keep teasing you, but… maybe you should just do it...” I unbuttoned the top button of Kaitlin’s jeans, feeling the first bit of pressure release—watching her exquisitely restrained softness begin to escape and rise as her eyes widened and she smiled a little.

When I finally went back in the following Monday, I felt a weird mix of excitement and dread. Would I in fact be able to control myself? Would I make it weird? Or has Kaitlin already kind of done that for me? Honestly, we both already kind of knew what was going on, but I wanted to push it to the back of my head—I mean, it would be valid if I did something wrong and it could even be reported to HR. Who knows—maybe that was what Kaitlin was really trying to do. An odd way to do it, but if she was talking to Stephanie… she knew it could be effective. She probably didn’t mean to put on weight at first… but at some point, maybe talking to Steph, maybe in her interactions with me, maybe something else—something flipped. Walking into the office, it was plain to see—Kaitlin was miles from the fairly skinny woman who first walked into Steph’s shoes. And now, you might say, she had more than filled them. She was wearing a loose, dark green blouse with just the slightest hint of cleavage—something I’d never seen her do at work—and black pants that were clearly high waisted and stretchy, though most of it was draped in the aforementioned shirt. “Welcome back,” Kaitlin started. She seemed a little tentative herself, like maybe she let on too much or regretted our last conversation by text. I decided to try to read the room as best I could; I didn’t want to make things unnecessarily uncomfortable. “Back again,” I started. Already missed two deadlines, I think—the fall is like that. “Hahaha, yeah I feel that… well I’ll let you get to it. See you around?” “See you soon.” And our work conversations went on like that, believe it or not. Like there was an undercurrent slowly boiling up that neither of us would acknowledge—Kaitlin still went out on Fridays, and I would see her IG stories and whatnot. But in person? Reserved, and friendly at best. I think we both didn’t necessarily actually want to start something in the workplace, and we kept our worst trespasses—and really, how bad were they, with simple emojis on DM?—to Instagram, a step removed from reality. But the longer we did this, the more emboldened Kaitlin became. And the closer she slowly, imperceptibly, and yet steadily moved towards her own precipice. Week by week and month by month, the same late night IG stories and reacts happened on repeat, on Friday and Saturday nights; I almost didn’t care do any more or less for the why the pattern impacted Kaitlin to gravely, as much as I told myself that she was doing this solely to herself. It’s not like she necessarily only had eyes for me, either—she was talk casually about going on first dates, overhead in office banter; it was like she was very patiently turning the dial up and up, waiting to see at what point I would personally break and make more of a move. At the same time, Steph and I still kept in touch from time to time, and if anything she lost a bit of weight, having probably reached the plateau when we tried that date earlier in the year. She was doing fine, and I continued to value our friendship—I was glad I hadn’t initiated something with her, as much strength as that took. Kaitlin, on the other hand—I was kind of hoping she would invite me to go to a show some time, get to know her just that little bit better, and maybe opt for coffee at her place… You know what you know just enough and little enough about a person for it to be exciting? Kaitlin still occupied that space, for me. I wanted her to whisper in my ear and tell me how bad she’s been these past few months just as much as I wanted to hear her complete take on the new Vampire Weekend record, and anything in-between—anything. Color spaces for CMYK printers as part of her marketing position? Sure. I just wanted to see her face move—and, peripherally only of course, catch more than a glimpse of her increasingly amazing chest over dinner. It was when I caught the latest glimpse of said chest—now reaching, I’m all but certain, a D in the middle of November—that I had my chance. “This has been fun, but I was kind of thinking… I know we work in the same building, but like, we’ve been doing this for months now… and I’ve been on a lot of first dates… wanna just say like, fuck it and go on a date? Like I know there’s so many things that could get weird at work but it seems like we’re pretty good at masking it already hahahaha.” “I would say you’re not wrong haha,” I weakly offered, still unsure. “Or like… just meet me for a drink in an hour? :)” “Well, you know I’m not going to say no.” “Okay. I might regret this. We might. But also, it’s been pretty clear for months hasn’t it. Maybe we just need to get this out of our system.” “Honestly Kaitlin I’m looking forward to hanging and getting to know you better outside work :)” I wasn’t completely disingenuous. “And you’ll get to smell my perfume. Warning… it’s a bit intoxicating, hehe.” “Considering myself warned.” And with that, I suddenly found myself putting together a decent outfit and heading out. I arrived about ten minutes early, but I already found Kaitlin there at the bar. She brushed away her shoulder length auburn hair, idly handling an old fashioned; she had on dark blue jeans, high waisted, and a form fitting black top with slightly puffy sleeves. I immediately noticed the way her midriff escaped her jeans despite the top button resting over her navel, and her softness just overflowed everywhere—it was worlds away from the Kaitlin I met, and a huge difference even from the Kaitlin who began to tease me during the summer. She was truly a vision from heaven, with every intention from hell. “Oh hey you,” she said gesturing to the stool beside her. “Come hang.” I sat beside here, drinking her in, smelling her perfume. I found myself immediately getting nervous already—and hard. My ears burned. “Hahahaha, nervous already? It’s just your colleague Kait, you know from work? What, feeling like you shouldn’t be here?” She took out a hand and placed it on my thigh, fingers slowly making their way towards the place of my hard on. “Okay, so… immediate. I’ve barely even said hi… have some manners!” She laughed as I smiled dumbly, barely able to eke out an order for my drink. “Steph was right, you are so easy… and this is pretty fun, I have to admit. That being said…” Kaitlin then went up to my ear and whispered, “… I didn’t love or mean to put on the first twenty pounds, as you can imagine.” Squeezing my member gently, she added, leaning back again, “but then I just kind of went from there.” She smiled, allowing my eyes to drink all of her in, seeing the way her thighs enveloped the stool and the way her cleavage began to sit like a shelf—not to mention the way her midriff, strapped in, constantly threatened to spill over her belt entirely. “You poor thing. Being unable to get with Steph… what was it, the work relationship? Because you’re good friends. She told me, it’s okay. I just want you to know….” Kaitlin leaned up to my ear again. “There’s phonomenal coffee at my place if you need a little pick me up later tonight.” She leaned back again, smiling. I had a lot of thoughts. She had me completely wrapped around her finger and she absolutely knew it. But after two years of being teased mercilessly by two different women, I was just about getting ready to finally submit.

Looking back, that story reaction I gave in July almost seemed to have set something off in Kaitlin. A green light. Permission. Maybe not just permission, but even implicit encouragement. The fantasy that seemed far-off earlier in the year was slowly becoming realized. August was slow. Kaitlin posted about being on vacation in San Francisco, but mostly POV shots — we didn’t talk every day or anything. In fact, by mid August we were still at the eyes looking emojis we’d exchanged. I wanted to give her space and not jinx it, or something. Maybe she thought the same. Or maybe she was just being silly that night. (As you can see, I’m already deeply overthinking it.) We were due back in the office August 26th; it was the preceding Friday. Kaitlin DMed me. “Hey you, vacation treating you well? Or can’t wait to get back into the office to deal with me and everyone else haha :)” “Hey! Um ya, I don’t deal with breaks super well so part of me actually is looking forward to the routine, and seeing you of course. I see you were in SF?” “Someone’s been paying attention lmao. Yea it was great, booked around a Vampire Weekend concert and saw a couple of friends in the area.” I liked her message and thought that was it. Again, wanting to be polite. But ten minutes later, this: “Well it’s girls night tonight, so stay tuned for fresh debauchery on stories I suppose lol ;)” I paused, examining my response for a minute before hitting send, cheeks feeling a little flush with my forwardness even while sober: “I just might (narrator’s voice: he’s low key looking forward to it)” Then Kaitlin sent another eyes looking emoji. I favourited it. Half an hour passed and then she texted again. “Just getting ready… What do we think of this one?” Kaitlin sent me a photo. Whatever happened this month, Kaitlin was in overdrive—her chest was in definite C territory, and the rest was obscured by her red shirt’s frilliness. She seemed to wear black jeans underneath, and her bottom half seemed bigger than ever—if I had to guess, size 12s, very tight ones. Her face was a beautiful as ever—it was her arms that mostly gave it away, now looking softer and more pliable than ever. Most of all I wondered what might have been going on with Kaitlin’s midriff these past few months in particular, but she seemed hellbent on not revealing anything of the sort. To be honest, she was not unlike the way Steph was in the months leading up to her leaving the company. What was almost concerning was the way what took Steph two and half years, Kaitlin did in the span of eight months. “Honestly? Gorgeous.” I said, simply. There was no lie. “You’re really sweet. Well maybe text later :)” I favourited it, and this time that was it. Later, at around 11pm, she texted me. “Just one question.” “Yes.” “How are you going to behave at work? Because that might be difficult. Not to make it weird.” “I mean… not to discredit you, but I’ve managed before.” “Hahahah, with Steph?” I paused. “Yeah, with Steph. To be honest.” “Interesting. You know I still keep in touch with her right?” “I did not.” “Well she says you’re a gentleman. So I believe you.” I favourited the message. “… But I’m not necessarily going to make it easy :)” I didn’t know how to respond to I let it sit for ten minutes. Finally Kaitlin followed up: “I hope I didn’t catch you too off guard, haha. Honestly, I’m surprised too… lots happened in the past few months. Dream of me and I’ll see you next week.” Kaitlin sent me one more selfie, again from the usual top down perspective, but this time showing off a little more of the way her shirt outlined her stomach, which she seemed otherwise let relax a little. She was simply smiling. Knowing what she was doing.

“What do you MEAN it just didn’t work out? God, you really are an enigma.” It was the next Monday at work, and Kaitlin was unusually chatty with me; usually we more or less kept to ourselves, but with this dating business—and to be fair, I connected with her on Instagram, my doing—she seemed to feel like she had a way in with me. “Who was it, anyway?” I rolled my eyes. “Doesn’t matter,” I demurred. Kaitlyn rolled her eyes back at me. “Sure… anyway, ready for the next quarterly report? Nothing but fun times here this week, amirite?” “Yeah… something like that…” “Hahaha. Well I know our roles don’t actually intersect so much but I think you used to chat with the girl who trained me a year ago… so don’t be a stranger, huh? I’m not the new girl anymore, you know.” “I… yeah, I’d like that. See you at lunch?” “See you in a bit!” Kaitlin smiled at me. She wore a black shirt and blue trousers that were almost overly modest, tied at the waist with cords—there was room to spare. I think they were new—usually she would just wear jeans; it was allowed, especially in our little-seen (yet, I maintain, important) corner of the company. It was like a house whose foundation really did rest on that one solid metal post in the middle of the basement. Once in a while upper manage would give it a look, but they knew in their hearts not to mess with it or try to touch it; it just wasn’t worth the risk. And so we continued. Stephanie and I still kept in touch of course and regularly chatted, and she gave me updates on her dating life, yet somehow even when it was pretty clear she might be open to hooking up, I just… didn’t quite want to, for fear of ultimately ruining our friendship, as much as that was now almost hidden beneath a strong undercurrent of kink. And the funny thing is, she got that—if anything, it allowed her to continue to hold her power over me. And that was the stalemate. It was more than fine. Simultaneously, my fascination with Kaitlin—and occasional fantastical thoughts—continued to grow. The situation was different; we didn’t have so solid a history; she was a bit younger. She seemed to more or less maintain her figure going into summer as we headed into June, but at the same time—and I could absolutely have just been imagining this—but she seemed just a bit softer, overall, especially after a barrage of hectic and stressful weeks—May and June were crunch time here. And I noticed how the looser slacks with the high waisted, corded top came to dominate her wardrobe; the jeans she used to wear gradually disappeared—they never fit embarrassingly tight, so far as I could tell, but on the other hand she always wore shirts that flowed over her hips. One day in late June I was headed back from a lunch break out; I overhead Kaitlin’s voice just down the hall and around the corner, and what she said made me pause: “Yeah, ugh, I just think I need to go out less and like, take the fvcking stairs some more? I’ve GOT to get out of my fat pants this summer. Anyway, TMI, but… yeah, I know this Friday’s girls night is for Emily’s engagement, but…. UGH, ok. But cap me at two drinks this Friday, OK? Cap me at two. Please, haha. Okay girl. Talk to you later.” Not wanting Kaitlin to know I heard that, I quietly turned and head back out for a minute. So they were more than a fashion choice. And god knows when you’re in your late twenties—like Kaitlin—these things can be a bit of a slippery slope. In fact, if I’m being honest, she was not entirely unlike how I remember Steph at the beginning. But whatever happened, I was determined not to make her self conscious, and I was determined not to let myself get to swept up in it. And, well… that pact with myself lasted about ten weeks, with ever increasing difficulty. I couldn’t help but keep watching just about all of Kaitlin’s stories on Instagram. And I knew she could see I saw them, but I hoped she wouldn’t think anything of it, or get used to it, or not care. That may or may not have been true, but I did it anyway—on Friday, a relatively innocuous glimpse of what I assumed to be Emily’s gathering, an occasional glance at her work desk, reading (currently reading: “I’m thinking of ending things”—nice choice); a friend’s dog; plants; another girls’ night; plant; another night out with a friend—she was indeed out a lot, maybe three nights a week. A particularly interesting story arrived mid July—“mistake fries are gonna kill me”, the caption read, in what looked like a restaurant kitchen. Was she moonlighting in the restaurant industry? It would explain part of it, anyway. The pants, stubbornly, remained. And if anything, her softness continued to creep up on her. No swimsuit pictures were posted that summer. By late July, a marked change happened on nights out—the introduction of cleavage. Kaitlin had always worn shirts that covered up, and she was probably in the B-range most of her life. But now it looked like she was a large B, or really, a C. And she began to decide to let her followers know she wasn’t exactly mad about that part, at least. The dangerous part here was that some nights I was out myself, at a show or just with friends, sometimes several drinks in. And on the Friday I saw Kaitlin’s cleavage IG story, I was on my fourth drink. So I hope you might forgive me when I admit that I unthinkingly decided to respond to her story with an eyes looking emoji. Even then I immediately regretted it, but to be fair, we’d been talking for months, and I felt something. Even if we were coworkers. Even with Steph aside, right there. Minutes passed and I tried not think of it or post any follow up message to her. Finally, a response: the same looking eyes emoji. It was kind of perfectly indecipherable and crystal clear all at once.

“I uh… Can’t deny that,” I mustered. Steph was clearing relishing the attention at this point, after practically years of flirting—and coming very close to straight up hooking up a couple of times… and yet, despite the vision of heaven right in front of me, I couldn’t help but think back to my conversation with Kaitlin. Maybe it was the very human propensity to want whatever you can’t have, but the fact that she looked even a smidge different versus hiring time set off my imagination. I excused myself to the bathroom. “Be good in there,” Steph said with a laugh that made her entire upper half wobble a little. “You uh, you know it,” I said, winking. It was insane the grip she had on me this evening. And yet… taking a minute to collect myself in the washroom and mindless browse Instagram, I found myself seeing if I could find Kaitlin’s account. It was almost too easy—and I found she followed Steph. Not unsurprising as Steph trained Kaitlin and both followed thousands of people, but still interesting. Not thinking much of it, I hit follow and watched her latest story—apparently she was on a girls’ night out, taking a short little video in the classic perspective—phone held high above, smiling girls; Kaitlin sported a bit of cleavage, not entirely surprising but I’d never seen her like this... still looking thin overall, but maybe just a bit healthier, so to speak. I thought about Steph sitting just outside. What was I doing? I mean, to be fair, what was Steph doing for the past couple of years? I began to dream up scenarios for Kaitlin—incorrigible, if not for the fact that our work relationship was loose at best, at least, colleagues, not a managerial situation. I became to imagine that Kaitlin’s position was almost cursed—that the uniquer demands of the role would inflict, slowly but surely, on her what happened to Steph. That she would eventually succumb. Purely fantasy, of course. I figured I ought to get back out there, but suddenly I got a DM from Kaitlin. “Date going well? Shouldn’t you be off your phone haha.” I paused. “Lol, caught. It’s going alright. Hope you’re having a good evening :)” And a simple text back—“:)”. I went back out and looked at Steph, smiling, our drinks ready. “So what movies are you looking forward to this summer?” She started, hand on one cheek. It was great catching up with Steph—and I couldn’t deny her physique was literally a dream come true—but my eye continued to wander. Did it make sense? Not at all. But these things rarely do. At the end of the night, a couple of drinks in, I gave Steph a long, deep hug. “So great seeing you,” I said, holding her hand. Things somehow felt still on the level of the deep friendship we’ve had, even with the occasional undercurrent of lust. I just didn’t want to necessarily break that bond, and I think Steph sensed that hesitance. “Hahah, I thought this was a date, not a catch up,” she said. “I know… how does it feel though?” “Yeah… let me think about it.” “Steph, you’re incredible. You look amazing.” “Thank you.” She smiled. We went our separate ways, at least for now—and on the ride home, I glanced again at the smiley Kaitlin had sent me earlier…

“Not necessarily complaining over here,” I finally managed, knowing full well that Steph knew exactly what she was doing, making me flustered and unsure of exactly what to say. I’d actually been on a number of first dates myself, and I tried to get image of her out of my system—but I simply couldn’t. And to find out she felt similarly… “Sooo not to rush, but it is Friday… Did you have plans?” Steph texted back. “I suppose I do now, haha. Where to?” “Honestly just thinking of drinks at like, 10pm somewhere? Just catch up properly, it has been a while there’s this place called Pocket Bar I went to a few weeks ago that was actually pretty cute” “See you soon!” “:)” Not wanting to somehow change her mind or mess something up, I kept it short and tried—and somewhat, kind of, succeeded—to focus on work for the rest of the afternoon. “Well you seem happy,” my colleague Kaitlin said as I made my way past her part of the office. Kaitlin was now a good 6-8 months in to her new role and, as far as I could tell, thriving. She was still looking on the thin side, but I could swear maybe ten pounds had stuck to her frame, maybe as a result of the new stresses of the job—not that it mattered. She was every bit as stunning as Steph though, just brunette instead of blonde, and had the good humour to match. “Yeah… yeah, catching up with a friend tonight,” I said. “Just a friend huh?” Kaitlin said, swivelling in her chair and smiling incredulously. “I uh—yeah, well, kind of a date,” I admitted. “Well have fun out there for me, good luck. I think I’m just gonna catch up on a couple of work things and rewatch The Bear as I’m a little boring, but I’m okay with it.” “Not a bad plan actually.” “Mhm. Well see you Monday and don’t go too hard tonight, haha.” I nodded and headed out, deciding to walk home and make the most of my evening by catching up on a couple of work things myself. Around 8pm I got another text. “Two hours. You excited?” Steph texted. I was at a coffee shop. I decided to look up her Instagram—nothing but high angle selfies dating up to last November, and then nothing for the past five months that included her. I wouldn’t know what she looked like now even if I wanted to. Not that it was any of my business. But I’d seen such behaviour before… “Honestly? Just really happy to see you again and catch up,” I texted. It was true. Even if there was a strong and ever building undercurrent of teasing and attraction, it was still true that I loved her personality, which only made things more exciting. “Well, cya soon :)” Finally I arrived at Pocket Bar—a little early, 9:45pm; I wanted to make sure we got a table so we could face each other—it was cute, as promised, with imaginative decor everywhere. I tried not to go on my phone in the dim light and not let my heightened emotions betray me, but in honestly after five months I was almost moving with anticipation, after having given up on the idea of seeing Steph again—at least in this way. Finally, I saw Steph’s familiar neck-length blonde hair pass through the entrance. I got up and walked to the front to meet her—she must have been giving a huge smile seeing my reaction, a mix of excitement and maybe mild humiliation, because Jesus Christ. I immediately saw why Steph seemed to want to drop off the edge of the world on social media for a while, if the goal was, as it was up to this point, at least trying to keep up appearances. And granted, she did it miraculously well right up to last December. But now that bubble, so to speak, had burst. The first thing I noticed was that under her blazer, she’d opted for the same loose, translucent top she’d work since we were colleagues last October—but now, it wasn’t even loose. It gripped every corner of the tight black shirt she had on underneath; her chest must have been an F cup at this point; there was a distinct bulge at her midriff that could no longer be tamed, and her jeans—graduating another size—held in quite a bit, sitting at or just above her navel, in what looked like an elaborate arrangement of five buttons, in stretchy denim meant to accommodate her apparently persistent and perhaps even growing habits. I did my best not to stare, but I’m sure I failed at least a bit. The most amazing part was that her face hadn’t changed at all—on zoom calls, I bet she got away with it just fine. But her body now told an inarguably different story. Stephanie had crossed the line. “Oh my god, hi, so nice to see you!” She went in for a hug, and I could immediately feel her softness and largeness compared to just five months ago. She looked at me mischievously, already being able to tell she was having the intended effect on me. “So? I see you got us a table, thank you.” It was at that point I notice the weight had even begun to impact her voice—there’s an undercurrent of honey that plus sized woman have when they speak, and it had now made its way to Steph. I watched her walk over to the table, and I had a flashback to the Uber we shared in December—there was now a perceptible jiggle in every step Steph took. Sitting down, the sliver of cleavage that now appears due to her red top’s newfound tightness made itself known. I joined her. “So what are we feeling?” Steph said across from me. I drank her in, a vision of heaven, the same Steph I knew from days as colleagues, now completely given in to her worst habits and impulses… a full blown BBW, and as she would probably say, she didn’t exactly hate it… She smiled, staring me down a little. Finally she added, before I could collect myself— “in toxicated and you haven’t even had one drink.”

Thanks! It is more or less realistic... I would know haha.

“… So the question, Stephanie, is how do we create that perennial bestseller, you know? Not that I expect you to just tell me here, but just something to think about,” who appeared to be Stephanie’s boss (or the CEO? I wasn’t sure), Michael, offered. He looked to be in his forties or thereabouts, and probably spent his whole career in the upper ranks of the organization. That was how it was sometimes with these family companies. Steph swirled the beer in her glass. “Yeah no, I hear you. It’s tricky because you don’t want to chase the puck, you want to go where it’s going, you know? Yet at the same time bestsellers are bestsellers because they’re bestsellers. So it’s kind of a chicken and egg thing I guess. You know what I think… I think, this could be the alcohol talking, but we could do to take more risk. Just saying, I don’t know. Let’s see how I feel tomorrow, haha.” Michael nodded. He clearly respected what Stephanie had to say, even it was a bit demurring. “Hmm, yeah. Let’s sleep on it. Well it’s great to have you on board, again. It’s only been a few months but it feels like longer!” “Haha, well thank you. Cheers to that.” Steph turned to me, her blonde locks swirling around her well defined face in turn. She smiled. “Holding up? I know it’s a lot of names and stuff. Sorry that you have to tell people you’re in telecom; it would be slightly awk to have someone from the competitor at the holiday party, to say the least. Maybe even not allowed, not sure. Anyway.” “Yeah no, just happy to be here,” I said, trying not to spend all my time taking in Stephanie’s incredible form. The relationship dynamic had changed, whether we wanted it to or not—the friendship was there, but no longer colleagues, and we both knew I was mainly there for one thing and one thing only—to be utterly teased, which for better or worse only emboldened Stephanie to go even further down the garden path. I noticed throughout the evening she drank a lot more than I remembered from even a couple of months ago—if I had it right, she was on her fourth, held in somehow by her doubled Spanx and leggings underneath her dress. I also noticed Stephanie was getting more looks in general from the men in the room—maybe because I was looking for it myself—but probably because the cleavage she has on display was borderline indecent for a corporate event. And yet, there I was, generally enjoying myself for being at a relevant spot for my career, but mostly, let’s be honest, for Steph. “Well… you’ve been on your best behaviour all night. Thank you for accompanying me like a gentleman,” Steph turned and said to me as we inched closer to 10pm. “Will you get an Uber for us to share back?” “Um yeah, for sure…” I put in both addresses, hers and mine. I didn’t want to assume anything, as much as I wanted to. As we got in the car, Steph simply smiled as I glanced over at her form. Her rear really filled the seat; you could tell the Spanx was almost cinching her to the limit. Yet she smiled. She knew. You could tell she was used to it… almost relishing it. Too soon, we reached Steph’s place. I watched as she got out and got the best view of her bottom I’d seen… possibly ever. “Well don’t be a stranger, huh? I’ll let you know if I need a date for another event, haha. It was super fun hanging with you again.” Steph smiled, knowing exactly what she was doing. “Um… yeah, any time. Likewise!” I weakly offered, feeling absolutely smitten. While we would text from time to time after that, that was it with Stephanie for a while. She kept a low profile on social media, too—if she posted, it was other people, street photos, maybe a croissant—that kind of thing. And once in a while, a selfie, where she looked much the same—but I knew that was not necessarily the case just underneath. Finally, in May, I got a text that was quite different in tone than the usual industry and media habits texts we’d been volleying back and forth. “I have to say, I am so extremely impressed with how so, so patient you’ve been and the self control you’ve exerted,” Steph texted. “Like truly, I’m in awe. And I’ll be honest, I’ve been on a few first dates over the past five months, but I never quite stopped thinking about our ‘date’ in December. Or you. So… maybe this is crazy, but do you just want to like, have a date? See how it goes? I don’t want to ruin our friendship but I’m just too curious haha.” Before I could respond, an addendum: “… and yes, I know you’re wondering, I’ve gotten bigger 😇”

Just wanted to say I have a rare morning available now if anyone wants to chat.

Any guesses on weight? I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out she’s over 230 at this point.

Just me, or does it look like she's wearing some kind of corset or girdle?

If that's how big she looks trying to minimize it on camera, imagine when she gets home and takes those pants off at the end of the day...

Nothing too serious I suppose, I've written a lot of stories on this site based on observations of friends and personal fantasies and I have to admit it might be starting to happen to me a little bit... I want to say almost inevitably. Feel free to DM

It was an incredibly long few minutes as I sat in her apartment, wondering just what I had gotten myself into and what Steph had in store for me. It was now clear as day that not only was she aware of my noticing her curves over the years in her previous job, she was into it. And the job change, for whatever reason, accelerated the whole process. Maybe fifteen pounds would be a bit of an exaggeration, but she definitely looked different in the same outfit and was without a shadow of a doubt the heaviest she had ever been. “Okay, ready?” I head Stephanie from the bedroom. “As I’ll ever be,” I responded meekly, trying not to get overly excited. The door opened. Out came a vision from heaven, immaculately put together and clearly custom designed for the evening we were about to have out with industry people and colleagues. Steph’s red dress went down just past her knees and clung a bit to her hips, but it was clearly a new acquisition. A touch of cleavage was accentuated with a silver necklace; a jean jacket kept her arms under wraps. It was extremely apparent, having just seen her truer shape just a moment ago, that Steph was putting on Spanx—maybe doubling it up, even. By way of some miracle, she appeared to take off some twenty pounds or more, actually looking even more out together than when she left the previous job, somehow. At the same time, there were some clear signs she was struggling, bursting at the seams—the way the area between the top of her Spanx and towards the beginning of her bra continued its trend of bulging out conspicuously, cluing in the attentive viewer that Steph was practically pouring herself into her borderline-plus size outfits these days. “You look amazing, Steph. I mean, you know that.” “Why thank you. I guess I’ve learned how to keep it all together, I suppose. Haha.” She walked up to me and a faint perfume ** me as I observed the way her blonde, shoulder length locks swirled to the rhythm of her voice. “It’s a tough industry and it’ll be nice to have a familiar face nearby. Thanks for coming out.” “They know I’m from your old job, yeah?” I suggested. “Not necessarily. Don’t overthink it. You do want to come, right?” “I mean, yeah, of course.” “Mhm. Well we still have about half an hour to kill…. Just go to a coffee shop I guess? Or hang here, and stare at my boobs without worry of being caught?” “Hahaha. Steph, come on, we’ve been friends for years…” “…. So that gets you a free pass?” She smirked, teasing me, knowing full well what she was doing. “Hey…” Steph continued, moving to sit on the couch again. Her dress really strained and her stomach bunched up a bit as she did, and she tried to twist herself a little to minimize the damage. “So I just want to know. Remember in grad school when I twisted my ankle, and I had to go on crutches for like six weeks?” “Um yeah… still sorry that happened.” “… And I put on like ten pounds?” “Umm.” “Yeah, I know you noticed. Hahaha. Of course I recovered since then, but in the years since then it’s been kind of a long, slow descent…” “I uh… Steph, you do look good.” “To you.” “I mean, sure. I’m not going to lie.” “You’re cute. These past couple of months in particular have been crazy.” “I um… I can see that.” “You know, new job, new people… a lot of stressors. An opportunity to change up the wardrobe and finally ditch those jeans you saw me in every Friday. That was getting untenable towards the end.” Steph got closer, clearing enjoying watching me squirm as she leaned in on the details of her recent, obvious weight gain. As she sat, Steph’s dress went up past her knees; from the spread of her thighs, I estimated she was sitting around a size fourteen at least. Definite plus size territory. I looked down and surveyed the way her dress gripped every curve, past her amazing chest, imagining the arms that filled out her jacket completely, and finally up to her completely misleading, thin face. “Truthfully,” she continued, “I feel super conflicted about it… but I guess I like being bad often enough that here we are, huh?” “I… Steph, you know I like you, and your body’s your choice.” Steph raised her eyebrows. “Okay, I’m impressed. Okay, hot.” I laughed a little, caressing her arm through the sleeve. “Look, I think this could be really fun and I don’t want to ruin the great friendship we have either.” “Yeah, no, same. But now I’m going to be thinking about ways to tease you even more than usual. Is that okay?” “I mean… it sounds like I don’t have too much say here.” “Mmm. Well let’s go, shall we?”

“So? Gonna tell me where you’ve been for the past five years or what? I guess three of them don’t really count, hahaha,” Kaitlyn said, turning to her old fashioned. “This isn’t the worst tinder date I’ve been on, that’s for sure,” she added. “Ha well… me neither, not by a long shot,” I smiled. “Um you know, just trying to find opportunity and stability in this world…” “It’s not a job interview,” Kaitlyn said, smiling. I started to get a little flustered. “Yeah—yeah of course, uh—“ “Anyway, seen any good shows lately?” “Mmm… yeah actually, I went to Forest Hills a couple times this year.” “Oh yeah? Who?” Kaitlyn pushed in her shoulders a bit and I found it unreasonably difficult not to peek at her cleavage. “I uh… The Smile.” “Oh amazing! I wish I had gone, just something came up. Yeah I hope they come back soon… maybe this year. The benefits of being a New Yorker, right?” “Haha, right. Working treating you well? That is if you want to talk about work. We don’t have to—“ “Oh, yeah, no worries. Yeah, work is good. Feels a little same-y lately but maybe that’s a good thing? I don’t know. One day at a time huh?” “You said it.” Kaitllyn stared out into the alcohol rack. My eyes drifted all over her figure. It was still unbelievable to me, and we were both sufficiently full of liquid courage… “So… did you… want to come over to my place for coffee? I don’t know about you, but I gotta do something about this before I get a massive hangover, haha. We’re not in our early twenties anymore.” “I uh…. Yeah, that sounds great. Should I call us un Uber or?” “Sure… let me put in the address.” As I gave Kaitlyn my phone and as I observed the way her arms bunched up under her sleeves as she typed it in, my imagination started to really run wild. But I didn’t want to assume anything. But… come on. As we went into the Uber, Kaitlyn put my hand into hers, leaning her head on my shoulder—and I did my utmost not to interpret it too generously, but not be too cold about it either. I simply nudged my thumb from time to time against her skin, trying to contain my excitement as her new curves pushed into me in the backseat. “So here we are,” Kaitlyn said as we reached the seventh floor, pushing open the door to her place. It was quaint, but to be expected as New York apartments go—not unlike my own actually. “So… coffee.” I stood in front of her and she leaned with her back against the counter. Kaitlyn paused. “You know I’ve always had a thing for you, right?” “I uh… honestly I didn’t.” “But the same grad program could have been awk.” “Yeah.” “…. And something tells me my new curves don’t bother you.” I inhaled deeply. “… Or maybe…” Kaitlyn stepped up to me so that her face as close to mine; I could smell the old fashioned on her lips. Her hand reached out and grasped my rock hard member through my jeans. “ … it’s that they do bother you. Make you all flustered. I love that.” I placed my hands on Kaitlyn’s hips, and I realized then that her jeans went all the way up to her upper midriff. “Haha… yeah, high waisted. You hate it… you love it.”