Chapter 4 - enter rochelle

The human brain is incapable of multitasking: at this point it’s pop-psychological knowledge, but grok how severely this conspicuous quirk in the human brain affects our lived experiences: we are not capable of doing and being conscious of doing. It’s not merely “hard” to live in the present moment, but damn-near impossible if we’re doing anything in that moment. Taking a moment to appreciate life is a moment out of life. In the moment, life is just happening and we just have to keep going with it to keep it happening. Anyone who’s lived through it knows college to be a prime example of this phenomenon. Students are constantly scrambling just to live. Live the life they think college will provide the last and only opportunity to live. Taking a day to one’s self to reflect is a rare opportunity during the collegiate scramble for life, and more often than not, met with the feeling that this crucial time could be filled with another once-in-a-lifetime experience. It’s really all quite distressful.

On the day after Christmas, Charlotte was laying on the bed in her childhood room taking some of that much needed time to reflect on her college years. She had graduated that June and had had a bit of time to cerebrate since then, but the flurry of moving to Oakland and finding a job didn’t leave a lot of idle moments of contemplation. Plus, four years of constant living left a lot to catch up on. Despite all the shame and embarrassment since “The Pool Party” at the end of her sophomore year, Charlotte had continued to plump up throughout her junior year; more or less plateauing at some point during her senior year. The only real change that “The Pool Party” brought about was that she never ventured down South during the summer months (which are roughly March through November in San Diego) to avoid any chance of being forced to wear anything close to resembling a bikini. And as her pot filled, so too did her conviction. But despite all that she was actually becoming bit by small bit more comfortable with her expanded, and the expansion of, her margins. She was still awfully self-conscious of every ounce of pudge, and in truth it was probably more of a matter of apathy that acceptance, but the result was still an increased ability to enjoy herself just a bit more. Her roommate deserved no small amount of credit for this.

From the moment they met on that first day in the freshman dorms, they had hit it off extraordinarily well for two girls so completely the other’s opposite. Charlotte was your typical white, suburban So Cal brat, while Rochelle had grown up with all the experiences that come with being a black girl in the home town of E-40 and Mac Dre: Vallejo. From the start Charlotte had both deeply admired and intensely envied Rochelle. On their first meeting Rochelle had burst into the dorm wearing leggings, a mini-skirt, and a crop top, flaunting her distinct, and what Charlotte would come to think of as trade-mark, pot belly. When they first started getting to know each other, Charlotte thought that maybe Rochelle didn’t know how obvious her pooch was? Maybe she had recently gained weight and was still holding on to the wardrobe of her slimmer days? Nope. It didn’t take long for her to dispel all questions about her ‘Baby Belle’, her oddly endearing pet name for her tummy. She was very open about the fact that she had always had a prominent belly. Proud was maybe too strong of a word, but indifferent was certainly too weak. She was fond of her belly, and she was fond of treating Baby Belle to whatever it might want. Getting pizza delivered to the dorm was a regular occurance, and going to the dining hall with Rochelle was always a show: she couldn’t help but make every meal a feast. Dinner was an especially shocking display. Rochelle could down multiple plates and always pieced together some sort of extravagant desert, and at the end of the meal she would slouch back in her chair, rubbing her inevitably bloated belly and letting the whole table know that, oh god, she really shouldn’t have gotten all that ice cream after the third plate, and that she was gonna need a minute for this thing (meaning her gut) to settle down before she was gonna be able to get up. Those antics were a shock for Charlotte the first few times, and almost hard for her to be around. Charlotte had spent her whole life as a slightly pudgy girl eternally addled by self-conscious; watching everything she ate and going to great lengths to hide her modest amount of pudge. Now she was bearing witness to a girl so comfortable in her own voluptuously pot-bellied body freely indulging herself to her limits. Suffice to say, it was a complete shock to the system. Charlotte would have been embarrassed for her if Rochelle wasn’t so self-assured that her actions were completely appropriate. Charlotte’s veneer shock was really covering that deep layer of admiration and envy.

What was even more of a shock for Charlotte, was how boys seemed to orbit around Rochelle. You see, Rochelle wasn’t merely a glutton, she was a connoisseur of all physical pleasures: she was a hedon. Her trademark crop-top and mini skirt weren’t just for the warm weather (it was Santa Cruz, there was no warm weather), it cultivated an air of promiscuity that combined with her naturally flirtatious nature to draw the young men of their school to her like flies to sweet, luscious honey. It turns out boys don’t actually mind a bit of cushion, especially when well placed, and besides her rounded pooch (well, I mean, according to your taste), her cushion was exceptionally well placed. She didn’t have a lot going on bust-wise - although what she did have was accentuated by her disdain for bras - but her ass was the stuff of legend. Her smooth, dimple-less cheeks stuck out like two large bubbles being gently pressed together, and although remarkably soft and easily set to jiggle at even a light slap, maintained its shape with no signs of sagging. She was like a sable Aphrodite, and just like Aphrodite, she was fond of being worshipped. This isn’t to say Rochelle was “easy”, she just preferred to cast a wide net, seeing what she attracted, and if necessary, throwing unworthy specimens back into the sea with such a kind and serene flourish, that any resentment was rare or seemingly so unreasonable on the boy’s part it went unspoken.

It was this voluptuous and esurient seductress that, at least on a subconscious level, convinced Charlotte that she could cut loose a little bit. When eating next to Rochelle, who could put away food like Charlotte had never seen, no amount of food really seemed all that excessive. A single plate of food turned into a plate of food with a modest desert, then a couple plates with a modest desert, then a maybe not-so-modest desert, and so on. And on the occasions when Charlotte came close to matching her roommate’s binges, Rochelle’s post-prandial antics provided an adequate enough distraction for Charlotte to discreetly undo a button under the table without the rest of the dinner party noticing.

Looking back, it was actually kind of funny that Charlotte was so relieved to have a roommate with a little bit more girth than she. The last thing Charlotte wanted when she left for school was a new beginning where she was once again relegated to being the “fat friend”. Charlotte came to college with a strong, athletic body with a small layer of pudge over top, while Rochelle was undeniably thick with an immodestly displayed belly, which although not huge, was certainly more substantial than what Charlotte had out front. And while Charlotte spent that year of dining hall indulgences filling in her unused muscles with pudgier material, Rochelle had nowhere to fill in and so filled out. Through the course of their freshman year Rochelle’s ass went from ample to monumental (and to the shock of her female friends and awe of her male admirers, retained it’s immaculately smooth and bulbous form) and her modestly round belly swelled and softened, until by the end of the year it threatened to spill over her waist band. She developed an enticing jiggle when she walked down the street and even the beginnings of an additional chin, but as was Rochelle’s character, none of this phased her in the slightest. She remained equally edacious at every meal while the pounds accumulated. Many idle hours Rochelle spent standing sideways in front of their dorm’s full-length mirror in just a thong and bra (later in their tenure as roommates this became a fully nude routine) not-so-silently observing her developing body in the mirror. “Whoof! That dining hall is legit, but not doing me any favors”, she would announce while caressing her plump and supple belly. Then she would do a little twerk, watching her ass continue to bounce long after her hips had stopped moving, “well maybe some favours, hehe”. She would take her time bouncing, squeezing, and caressing every curve and fold of her softening body, commenting on every new development to Charlotte, who was trying to avert her gaze, but found the whole display oddly mesmerizing. Charlotte had spent many secretive hours pinching and fondling her own pudge, but had never thought it activity than anyone else partook in and certainly had never witnessed first hand. Rochelle’s favorite gag was to fully puff out her belly and cradle it then mewl to Charlotte, “Ohh Chary, what are we going to do? This baby is due any day now… I don’t even have a name for it… How are you going to explain to your parents that you knocked up your roommate, Chary?” and so on. Charlotte would pretend like she was ignoring the whole thing or if she was caught gawking would offer only a blush and an embarrassed chuckle.