Author: Pint29

I started seeing Tanya regularly. True to her word, those hips grew. And grew. The growth was fairly proportional — her arms slowly developed little dimples; her back dimples became rather huge; the C cups went from Ds and finally, improbably for her build and half-Asian descent, landed on Es with generous cleavage if opted for. Her jeans were now a not-roomy 16. The gain was fast and furious. The spanx went on around October. If she was reticent before, she was enabled now. I even fed her cupcakes as part of our foreplay ritual at my place, never forgetting to tell her how fucking hot her hips and lower back were nearing hanging out of her pants.

What was odd, though, was that we never went to Tanya’s apartment.

—

Finally, with the Christmas party about a week away and laying in my bed, Tanya asked me.

“Can you do me a favour? Can we skip the party? I just want to lie in bed with you,” she pouted.

I thought about this in the knowledge that Tanya, for some reason, was trying to keep me away from Cathy. I went along with it for this long, but this was starting to get particularly controlling. Read more »

I worked at a restuarant on weekends to help pay the bills; it was a somewhat upscale place, like Baton Rouge. It was situated at the foot of a hotel, and sometimes hotel staff would come down the pick up orders to bring up to room service. While I was on the restaurant side, I relished every chance I had to hold banter with Cathy. While the shift schedule varied, it was usually Saturday nights.

I had known Cathy for a few years, starting when we first picked up shifts at the restaurant. I was about 24; she 23. The years went by too quickly, as the 20s do, and Cathy picked up office work while I got into teaching.

Cathy was tall and somewhat lithe starting out, albeit her hips held their own. Her arms had some definition; a holdeover from her track years in university. As the years went on, however, I witnessed a slow but definite transformation in her physique. The arms were held the first and, to this day, most obvious change: first the muscle receded, quickly replaced by layers of softness. For a relatively short time last year, one could catch a glimpse of her sides poking out a bit as evidenced by the push and pull of her skirt; the front frustratingly always hidden by her apron, if not a fairly baggy shirt before and after changing. Read more »