chapter 6 - transitions

Following that night, we properly began to know each other. We would see each other on campus. We would go out to eat often. She would give me small gifts of food whenever we ran into each other. My waistline responded accordingly.

My belly protruded out noticeably through my shirts at the time and was always a least an inch over my waistband. It had solidified into a small, but definite tummy. Likewise my upper arms thickened such that my arms felt now like cylinders of fat. More meat grew on my thighs and ass and began to spread down to my calves. I wasn’t fat by any means, but I was definitely a little chubby.

April gained a little weight. The weight distributed itself such that April was noticeably curvier. Her hips were ever so slightly more pronounced. Her ass and breasts protruded outward significantly. She was extremely conventionally attractive at this size. But her new size seemed to slightly stress her out. One night, as we shared a tub of ice cream, she said:

“I don’t know what I want”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been loving sneaking extra bits of food around you—because I know you understand—but I worry what people will think of me. I know that I’ve put on this fat liberationist front around you, but, well, my life feels defined by helping others. Take my sorority for instance: I’m always having to be someone to lean on for those girls. I feel like I’m trapped within the expectations of others.”

“I think I know how you feel.”

“I guess. It feels like your afraid to let anybody in because doing so risks your ability to camouflage into normal life. I feel like I have to let everybody in.”

“Fair. But do you let everybody into all of you? Like, don’t you consign the feedist portions of your life to a private bubble? Isn’t that also a kind of camouflage?”

“I suppose. I just wish I could be understood, you know? Like I really do want all of me accessible and ready to serve others. I know that’s not possible or would even be healthy, but I hate hiding.”

“Well, I can’t change other people, but, as you said, I understand the urge to sneak a little extra and see what happens. That part can be accessible to me, if you want it to, and, perhaps others could accept you as you are as you better develop this part of yourself.”

She took a scoop of ice cream and leaned her head on my stomach. “I’ve put a lot of trust in you, because I know I need this. I hope it’s everything we wish it to be.”

The next night, April decided to bring things back to basics with a coke and pizza night. “You’re going to pop a button, if I can help it!” She said impishly. And indeed I would pop a button that night. I was destined to be fat at this point. My appetite was skyrocketing and April kept me constantly eating. I knew I had to resize to larges immediately, which only further permitted my indulgences.

Over the next several weeks, I became definitely chubby. I put on 15 pounds from where I started, placing me at 175 and officially overweight. My belly became noticeably prominent on my frame, even on an empty stomach. When I was standing, my belly bulged outward about two inches from my fupa. When sitting down, my belly flopped forward, covering my fupa but not touching my thighs. My sides were completely layered in a small but noticeable layer of fat. My thighs thickened substantially, eliminating any thigh gap and jiggling at the slight ish movement. My moobs took on a definite shape. Strategic clothing options still hid my new size for now, or so I thought.

April stayed a similar size, only taking on a slight pot belly (“relationship weight” as her friends called it). I didn’t mind. She needed to find her own path in feedism. However, I sensed a deep longing in her. She loved making me fat, but watching her weight placed a barrier between us that clearly upset her. I never knew what to say, and so I said nothing and Christmas break soon followed.

We didn’t see each other because we were from different states, but we kept in touch online. Without her direct guidance, I didn’t gain much weight over break, especially since I wasn’t comfortable pigging out in front of my family. I assumed the same for April, until I saw the following message:

SpringTime42: “I have a BIG surprise for you when you get back…”