chapter 3

never had much trouble making friends. I suppose I was one of life's Samwises: my submissive and non-threatening nature made me a natural sidekick. I was always the kind of girl that other girls liked to have around because there was no danger that I would outshine them or steal their boyfriends. At work I quickly became friendly with a few other girls around my age but while I pretended to be interested in what Lauren was doing at the weekend or Eilidh's latest boy dilemma, my attention was always on Alex. I liked the way she braided her honey brown hair at the front to keep it out of her face. I liked the tiny scar on her chin that became more visible when she had a tan. I liked the way her athletic muscularity was tempered with a touch of feminine softness.

I want to say that it wasn't just all physical but the truth is I barely knew her at all. She made no reference to my previous embarrassment and occasionally we would talk in passing but It was all surface chat like bitching about asshole customers or how annoying Moira on checkout 12 was. She wasn't the popular girl with the easy smile that I remembered from high school. She had a way of being polite but distant that most people interpreted as aloofness and I knew most of my new friends didn't really like her, thinking her stuck up and superior.

One day I was stacking shelves up the back of the supermarket, aisles filled with bin bags, cleaning products and pet food that were narrower than in the rest of the shop. They really wide enough for one person to walk down and I was so much rounder and wider than everyone else that there was no way anyone could get past me without a struggle. I was enjoying a break from having to interact with the customers and the monotony of the task allowed my mind to wander. I was so lost in thought that I didn't notice that my shirt was losing its push-pull battle with my flabby side rolls as I worked and I didn't even hear Alex approaching. Even though my corpulent form was taking up most of the aisle she still attempted to squeeze past me.

"Behind you," she said as I felt her hips graze against my bulging backside and then she playfully pinched my exposed love handles that were drooping over the sides of my trousers.

Her touch against my naked flesh was electric and I uttered a little squeal of surprise, sending cans of cat food clattering to the floor. Too flustered and confused to look at her I quickly scrambled down to pick them up but then: rrrrrriiiiiiiiippppp.

I heard a small giggle behind me. "Pink. Sexy."

I knew then what she could see: I was giving her an eyeful of an huge pair of pink panties being swallowed up by two enormous dimpled butt cheeks.

Maybe she hadn't laughed to be cruel. Maybe it had only been at the awkwardness of the situation or because she hoped that I would see the funny side. But I couldn't think straight and I certainly couldn't see the funny side.

Without a word I turned and hurried towards the employee bathroom as fast as my waddling gait would allow, the cheap material of my ruined work trousers rubbing together loudly between my chafing thighs all the way while the bounce of my sagging belly and the wobble of my wide hips and ass served as a constant reminder of just how big I was.

Locking the door behind me I looked at my reflection in the full length mirror, it was a view of my whole body that I rarely allowed myself. The girl who filled the mirror looked enormous and was so out of shape that she was taking pathetically deep breaths after only a short walk. God, I had let myself get so fat.

In private I loved the naughty, gluttonous thrill of indulging my every greedy desire and stuffing myself to the brim. I loved the feeling of being big and round and full. I loved the soft sensuality of my swelling curves and bulging belly. But I couldn't take any pleasure or satisfaction from my spreading figure now, all my insecurities came flooding back and the very thoughts that would have had me tingling with delight in my bedroom now left me feeling humiliated and exposed as an overstuffed pig who couldn't control her eating. I felt like a fat embarrassment. A freak. A blimp. The fattest girl who ever lived. My uniform was a size 22, it was the biggest size that the company carried and in truth it had never been a good fit but I had squeezed myself into it like a poorly trussed ham because I was determined not to admit that I was so massively obese that I needed to have my uniform custom made. Faced with the reality of just how far beyond control I had allowed my body to grow I just wanted to hide away. And eat.

Staring at the sad fat girl in the mirror I longed to have someone to tell me that my body was not only big, but beautiful. Someone who didn't just think I had a pretty face for a fat girl but also found my double chin adorable and the heavy hang of my belly sexy. I imagined having someone to lovingly fatten me and spoil me like their piggy princess. Someone who would think every pound of extra jelly on my body was pure jiggly, bouncing bliss.�But there wasn't anyone to comfort me and I had no kind or soothing words for myself. All I could do was strip off my ruined trousers and hope that no one would notice that I was wearing jeans for the remaining hours of my shift.