Chapter 1

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Principal Eleanor Voss commanded the halls of Westbridge High with a poised grace that turned heads, her tailored suits accentuating her curves with a confidence that was both professional and magnetic. Her sharp wit and warm smile made her a favorite among students and staff, but beneath her polished exterior, a secret simmered. Every afternoon, as the final bell rang, her gaze would drift to the football field where Coach Dan Hargrove, with his broad shoulders and impressively large belly straining against his polo, barked orders at his team. There was something about the way he carried his size—unapologetic, commanding—that set her heart racing, a forbidden spark she buried deep, knowing the school’s rumor mill would feast on even a whisper of her desire. Yet, as she lingered by her office window, watching him lumber across the grass, she couldn’t help but wonder what might happen if their worlds collided beyond the bounds of staff meetings and game days.

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She had been absolutely boiling over with nerves when she was doing routine staff check ins, anticipating Dan's meeting. Typically she met with the teachers in a small group, but the other two were out. Dan accepted the invite and would be walking in any moment. She couldn't stop picturing his hanging belly swinging side to side as he lumbered to the front office. She may have put on a little make up this morning just for him, fishing out a brighter color lip than her usual, the coral color emphasizing the blood swirling in all directions in her body, attempting to collect in the best place to get her laid.

He was coming from the tech wing in the basement, where his shop class met, and she secretly hoped he'd be a little winded from the stairs and long hallway. She typically didn't get to see him much during the day because he stayed in his corner of the school. She could see the delivery drivers pull up to the back door near his room and would mentally note how many days a week he was treating himself to lunch. Most lunches for one came in a single bag, but Eleanor was sure he always was handed multiple into those thick hands.

She imagined those fat fingers pushing all kinds of food past the plump limps she longed for. She wanted to feel those rough massive mitts play with her so badly. A small whimper escaping her lips as she pictured it. A click at the door made her leg snap into a crossed position. And then there he was.

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Coach Dan Hargrove paused at the door of Principal Voss’s office, his meaty hand gripping the handle as he caught his breath. The trek from the tech wing’s basement had left him winded, the stairs a reminder that his hefty frame—broad shoulders, barrel chest, and that prominent belly swaying with each step—wasn’t built for speed. He adjusted his polo, the fabric taut across his gut, and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. He’d noticed the way Eleanor’s eyes lingered during previous staff meetings, a flicker of something he couldn’t quite place, but it made his pulse quicken. Today, alone with her for this check-in, he felt a nervous energy he hadn’t known since his playing days.

He pushed the door open, the click echoing in the quiet office, and there she was—Eleanor, perched at her desk, legs crossed, her coral lips a vibrant contrast to the professional cool of her suit. Damn, she looked good, he thought, his eyes catching the subtle way her curves filled the chair. The way her breasts pushed tight the fabric of her blouse, the top several buttons undone giving a hint of cleavage as she leaned toward him. He’d always admired her command, her poise, but there was something different today—a spark in her gaze that made his stomach twist, and not just from the double order of wings he’d polished off at lunch.

Those delivery bags were his guilty pleasure, a fact he figured no one noticed, but the way she looked at him now, he wondered if she’d been watching closer than he realized.

“Afternoon, Principal Voss,” he rumbled, his voice gravelly as he lumbered to the chair across from her, feeling the seat creak under his weight. He caught a faint sound—a whimper?—just before he sat, and now her eyes were locked on his rounded abdomen full on his lap, her eyes sharp and unreadable, as she struggled to focus on his face. Both curious and at the same time excited by her attention his thick fingers flexed on his knees, and he couldn’t shake the thought of what those manicured hands of hers might feel like if they ever wandered past the boundaries of this office. “So, uh, just you and me today, huh?” he said, a half-smile tugging at his lips, hoping she didn’t hear the nervous edge in his tone.

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“Yes, lots are out today,” she said, adjusting a pen on her desk and refocusing. “I appreciate you always being in. Shows great dedication.” She didn’t say that the chance of spotting him in the giant high school each day gave her something to look forward to, but it did. She got to choose the groups she met with and for the past few years she had the habit of putting the 3 fattest men in a group. Sometimes she just needed to be around big bodies, and doing so in a small space was a bonus. But ultimately she'd have always rathered to meet with Dan alone.

“I gotta eat,” he offered, momentarily forgetting he was quite overweight, and though it was a very normal throw away comment, he couldn’t help but feel a better choice could have been made.

Eleanor fought to maintain her composure. “Don’t we all?” she managed to chuckle out smoothly. She went into her typical itinerary question for the meetings. How was the start of the year? What do you need? Is there anything else? It wasn’t intended to be a long meeting, but staff members tended to milk their soapbox when they had it. The group in previous years typically descended into “shooting the shit”, talking about sports, which she did enjoy being a part of. She’d cut them off at the end of the designated time, but loved to see Dan lean back and laugh with his belly jostling.

He was thoughtful in his responses and she appreciated his insights about a new initiative in the school. She simultaneously couldn’t stop noticing the light sheen on his lips and the faintest red tinge to his fingers. She felt an arousing rush come over her, confirming her spying on the parking lot just an hour ago. He did look a bit bulky at the top of his belly, when he typically looked soft to her. She would love to know more than how his body looked from a professional distance.

“So yea. So far so good. I hope we do well this season.” He was enjoying the meeting, but not unaware of the strange energy and scanning she was giving him.

“I just want to say that I do apologize on behalf of the family for that student who had that blow up on you. He was already having a wild melt down.” She had felt terrible when she received the write up, which to his great credit was very objective and, from what she heard from everyone, very generous to the student. A more spiteful teacher would have done their worst. Supposedly they were having a moment and Dan just happened to be walking by. That was all. But they decided to make him the object of their frustration and belaboring the point that Dan was a fat fck and was always stuffing his face. Dan had described it as “spoke aggressively to the teacher”. But there had been whispers about what had been said. She had heard some teachers talking about it at the copier in the main office. She wanted to scold them, as it really wasn’t appropriate, and they were not as quiet as they thought, but she was horrified to admit she found the sheer embarrassment of the scene arousing. And to think of it being true. If he wasn’t always stuffing his face, then why did he look so hefty in that chair?

She wasn’t surprised when he brushed it off as “no big deal”, and she relished the flush in his face that came out. She had to do something. Would it be crossing the line?

“How was lunch?” She couldn’t believe it was her own voice.

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Dan shifted in the creaking chair, his broad frame filling the space as he registered Eleanor’s question. How was lunch? The words hung in the air, and he felt a flush creep up his neck, warming his already ruddy cheeks. Her voice had a lilt to it, a curiosity that felt like it was probing at something deeper than small talk. He glanced at her, those coral lips parted slightly, her eyes fixed on him with an intensity that made his gut tighten—not from the double portion of wings he’d scarfed down an hour ago, but from the way she seemed to see him, all of him, in a way that felt dangerously personal.

“No big deal,” he said again, his gravelly voice steady despite the quickening thud of his heart. He leaned back, letting his belly settle prominently, the polo stretching just enough to emphasize the distention of his overfull belly pushing almost horizontal from beneath his large male breasts. “Lunch was… good, y’know. Usual stuff.” He chuckled, a low rumble, but his eyes stayed on her, catching the way her gaze flicked downward, lingering on his midsection. Does she know about the delivery bags? He wondered, the thought sending a strange thrill through him. The idea that she might’ve noticed his habits, might’ve been watching him the way he sometimes caught himself watching her, made his thick fingers twitch against his thighs.

“Eleanor,” he started, his tone softening, testing the waters, “you don’t have to worry about that kid’s outburst. Happens sometimes. Kids get heated, say dumb stuff.” He paused, his lips curling into a half-smile as he leaned forward slightly, the chair groaning under his weight. “But I have to say, you looking at me like that… makes me think you’re wondering about more than just my lunch.” His voice dropped, a playful edge creeping in, emboldened by the flush on her face and the way her fingers gripped the edge of her desk. He spread his hands, letting them rest on his knees, palms up, an open invitation. “If you’re curious about something, don’t hold back. Go ahead, ask. Or, hell, come closer and find out for yourself.”

He held her gaze, his pulse hammering now, feeling the weight of his own boldness. That student’s cruel words—* fat fck, always stuffing his face*—had stung, sure, but the way Eleanor’s eyes sparked when she looked at him, the way she seemed to lean into the moment, made him wonder if she saw something in his size that he’d never thought to embrace. His belly, heavy and full, felt like a silent challenge between them, and he wanted—needed—to know if she’d take it. “C’mon, Principal Voss,” he said, voice low and warm, “you’re the boss here. If you want to know what’s what, I’m right here.” He let his hands drift to his midsection, patting the sides lightly, the sound soft but deliberate, daring her to cross that line she was clearly teetering on.