Chapter 2 - probation

I was busy over the next few weeks, and didn’t see a great deal of my new hire. But every time I did visit the QC station she greeted me cheerfully, and more than once I saw her eating an extra pastry or two. The head of Quality – her direct line manager – was an old school-friend of mine called Jerry, and he confirmed that she was falling victim to the typical weight gain.

“Yes, she’s a good worker, that one – but she’s certainly enjoying the free produce, too. She’s already getting properly chubby. She wants to watch her waistline, or she’ll pack on even more weight than they normally do!”

I didn’t realise how right he was until her three-month probation meeting. It was the first time I’d been alone with her since the job interview, and taking a moment to look at her properly, the scale of her expansion took me by surprise. Her face was noticeably rounder, the chubbier cheeks enhancing her doll-like beauty, and a little double chin was forming. Her breasts were larger and plumper, straining the buttons of her uniform shirt a little; and there was an obvious jiggle to her rotund belly as she took off her hair-net and shook out her blonde locks, ready to go home after our meeting. She pulled her shirt down self-consciously over her stomach, and in that moment I decided to have some fun with her.

“Now, thanks for coming in. This won’t take long. As you know, your three-month probation period is coming to an end, so we need to have a discussion about whether you’ll be retained as a full member of staff, retained on extended probation, or terminated.”

She was taken aback by my brusque tone, and replied falteringly as she took a seat, “Oh… I – I hope my performance has been OK..?”

“Your performance of your key duties has been acceptable,” I continued in a business-like tone, remaining standing, “But there are a couple of points which give cause for concern.”

Her pretty face fell, and she looked at me with silent bewilderment. I went on, walking around behind her chair.

“First of all, as you know, QC staff are allowed to dispose of superfluous testing product at their own discretion. They can take it for friends and family, or consume it themselves. But if you are going to eat it, you should really be doing so in designated break periods. I have to say, every time I come into the QC station, you seem to have a cake or a pastry in your mouth. It’s potentially a health and safety issue to be constantly eating on the job.”

She looked terrified. “I’m so sorry – I mean, I do know the rules, it’s just that the others… I mean, I will be more careful, I’m sorry,” she flustered.

“And the second point,” I went on, pretending to ignore her as I sat down behind my desk and paused, “How can I put this delicately… the second point is, I suspect, related to the first. Stand up, please.”

She complied, beginning to turn pink as she guessed where this was going.

“Raise your arms above your head, and spin around 360 degrees.”

She slowly raised her arms, and her blue work shirt immediately came untucked from her trousers. Her rounded pot-belly popped out, and her plump love-handles overflowed her waistband at the sides, peeking out below the hem of the shirt. She obediently turned around on the spot, shame-faced, as I sat and appraised her jiggling midriff from all angles.

“As I thought. We do have some quite stringent uniform guidelines here, and you need to ensure that your clothes are big enough to contain you, and you’re not spilling out everywhere. I know we bake a lot of muffins here, but we don’t need to see that muffin-top hanging out.”

As she turned back to me, she was chewing her lower lip and welling up in tears. Her arms fell to her sides, but her shirt stayed ridden-up over her exposed stomach and side-rolls. She didn’t even think to pull it down. “Please let me stay – I need the job, and these are things I can fix. I’ll stop eating outside breaks, and, and… I’ve been meaning to lose some weight – I know I’ve blown up like a balloon since I started here. I… I know that the plant is about to add an extra shift, and we’re a little under-staffed. I’m more than willing to do overtime, please give me the extra hours and I’ll show you how hard I can work!”

I stood up and pretended to ponder for a moment. “You can stay, on extended probation.” I walked up closer to her. “But I think I’ve got a new nickname for you. Do you know what that soft, doughy belly reminds me of? One of our cream puffs. And you seem to be expanding just like a ball of pastry in the prover. So that’s what I’m going to call you from now on – Cream Puff.” She looked at me with big eyes, and I asked her, “What’s your new name?”

For a split second I thought I saw incredulity in her face, or maybe indignation. I thought she was going to slap me, or start sobbing, or storm out of the room. Then she looked down at her exposed stomach, and meekly replied: “Cream Puff.”

I continued in a slightly kinder tone, “That’s right. Look, I know the temptation of all that free food is a lot, and everyone gains a little weight working here. But I must say, tubby, most of them aren’t quite as greedy as you,” I said with a laugh, patting her bulging pot-belly and then pulling down the shirt to cover it. “Listen, don’t worry about the extra weight, Cream Puff, it’s just an occupational hazard. Go straight to the stores and they’ll issue you some Large size uniforms.”

She thanked me profusely for letting her keep her job, still pink and flustered from her humiliation, and rushed out of my office. I watched her plump butt wobbling away and called after her: “By the way, Cream Puff – those extra shifts are up to Jerry.”


***


That evening I went for a drink with Jerry. I didn’t tell him quite how mercilessly I had humiliated the chubby girl, but I warned him that she would be coming to him for overtime shifts, and told him about her new nickname. He thought it was hilarious.

“Cream Puff! That’s perfect. She probably just wants the overtime so she can get more free cakes. Man, she has really let herself go since she started.”

“I know. I’ve never seen anyone fatten up so fast.”

“It’s a shame – do you remember how hot she was? Hell, that was the only reason you hired her. She’s kind of a fat mess now – come to think of it, I guess that’s just your type!”

Now, here’s a thing about Jerry. I knew that he was a total chubby-chaser – maybe even more so than me. When we were 18, I kind of stole his first proper girlfriend after she put on a lot of weight. Jerry secretly hated me for it at the time, but he always maintained that he had dumped her because of her weight gain. In fact, I suspected that he had been encouraging her to gain – but he never admitted it, as his preference for big girls was always something he was ashamed of. Because of that, he could never be publicly angry with me and we stayed friends. I, on the other hand, was always pretty open about my penchant for larger ladies – most of my girlfriends growing up were chubby, and I got a lot of shit from my friends for it but I just didn’t care.

Because I knew about his closet fat fetish, I pushed Jerry a little on the subject.

“She has certainly piled on the pounds. You’ve got to admit though, she’s still very cute, even with the extra weight. It’s hot how soft and chubby she’s getting, and how she just can’t seem to help herself.”

Jerry hesitated. “I don’t know about hot… it’s definitely hilarious. She’s so innocent – it’s like she doesn’t even realise that everyone’s laughing at what a greedy pig she is.”
He kept up this kind of bravado, refusing to acknowledge Cream Puff’s attractiveness, calling her lardass, sow, heifer, whale. But I knew – and Jerry knew that I knew – that we were both excited about watching this perfect, gorgeous girl just bulging further out of control.