Stuck with a gut

Chapter 1

Brook

When I was a quality athlete, people believed I was the type of girl who celebrated ALL forms of healthy living.


Spoiler alert,


I am not that type of girl.


I have never been that type of girl.


And,


I never will be.


I’m not afraid to admit it.


I’m just a girl who lives to eat.


Call me all the mean names you want, I don’t care. I cherish my flaws, just as much as I cherish whatever food I can get my greedy hands on.


I’m an entitled, lazy, glutton! There I said it!


Although,


You wouldn’t guess it just by looking at me.


My high school friends and coaches always warned me that if I didn’t treat my body like a temple, I’d ruin my athletic figure. They’d say shitty things like:


“Poptarts before a workout?? You can’t outrun your fork, Brook! You’re gonna be a blob someday!”


OR


“Athletic bodies are made from discipline in the kitchen just as much as the gym!”


Back then, I punished my body by sweating at the gym, on the track and in the pool, all so that I could eat as much as I liked without having to worry about putting on weight. Okay, if I’m being 100% honest, I also liked watching our high school men's swim team romp around in speedos. So, that’s another reason I stuck with the swim team… but who cares?


In college I gave up on sports, the gym, and treated my athletic body like a beer dumpster.


It’s probably why I don’t look like an athlete anymore, but you’ll never hear me complaining. I traded a perky rock-hard peach, washboard abs, and a regrettably flat chest for a juicy booty, curvy hips, a soft flat tummy, and jumbo-sized breasts. I went from being the pretty little 5’8 115-pound wallflower that some guys couldn’t help but find attractive, to the busty 165-pound hourglass bombshell all the guys couldn’t resist. Assuming they were straight. I don’t wanna stroke my ego too much.


My feeding habits are that of a trained circus animal, every time I do a trick, I get a reward. What do I consider a trick in this metaphor? Basically anything, haha! It’s awful, it’s unhealthy, it frightens my elderly joy-killing parents, but I take no joy in dieting. I know I should stop, after all, over the five years it took me to graduate from college, I gained what? Like 50 pounds? But yeah. I should stop, I know I should stop, but I’m not going to. At the end of the day, life is just too short to count calories. Besides, gaining weight didn’t make me fat, it made me hot.


So, whatever.


Enter my current conundrum. Finishing college burned me out and I need to recover. I wanted to take a gap year before applying for my first real career job, y’know recharge my batteries a little bit before selling my soul for a wage that could afford to sustain my colossal eating habits, but my parents were not onboard with that idea. They were not okay with their 24-year-old trouble-making daughter living rent-free in their furnished basement unless… I got… at the very least… a part time job.


All I wanted to do this summer was sit on my ass, soak in some sun, and indulge to my heart’s content. I knew a part-time job would certainly get in the way of my plans, that is, until I remembered the best job I’ve ever had.


I grew up in Minnesota, where lakes are a dime-a-dozen and summer is punishingly humid. From when I was 16 years old to when I turned 19, I spent those long summer days as a lifeguard at a private country club pool. As a bratty, chronically underfed teenage athlete, I was in charge of making sure wealthy people’s kids didn't die. However, aside from the conditioning test the weekend before Memorial Day to ensure us prospective lifeguards were fit to serve, the only thing I ever had to do was blow my whistle a couple of times when kids ran too close to the edge of the pool.


It was easy money. I could literally get paid to sit on my ass, work on my tan, and snack my way to satisfaction. The last time I’d been officially certified was five years ago, and I was worried I’d have to attend the stupid six-week training course again, but, lucky for me, my old certification expires in September, which means I am off the hook!


All I needed to do was call my old boss, take the conditioning test, and my summer as a carefree lifeguard was a go!


…


Despite showing up to the interview with my old boss at the country club smelling like an empty bottle of booze, I was once again hired to guard lives by the pool! I suspect the fact that I briefly used to date the elderly man’s son during my senior year of high school played a part in my good luck. Richard’s dad, Chuck, always seemed to fancy me, and now that I’d matured as a woman, there was no way in hell he didn’t want to see me resting my shapely butt on one of those tall lifeguard chairs a few days each week.


Of course, this deal was conditional upon me passing the mandatory physical. Since it had never been a problem for me in high school, I didn’t worry about it. Although, perhaps I should have. I wasn’t fat, but I was certainly out of shape. My couch potato ass got winded sometimes reaching for the remote control… Depending on how much food I’d stuffed down my greedy throat.


However, rather than expend precious energy trying to get back in shape for the conditioning test, I spent my time frequenting the local bars and chowing down on dinners my local tinder dates bought for me.


Then the weekend before Memorial Day arrived and I showed up to get my conditioning test over with. I was the last to walk into the woman’s locker room. Six other candidates had arrived before me, from the looks of them dressed in their matching red one-piece swimsuits, they were all skinny seniors in high school. I felt all their eyes upon me when I entered the room. Immediately I felt a little ostracized for a couple reasons. Eavesdropping on my way to my locker, two of them were gossiping about some reality TV show that I hadn’t seen, two of them were independently playing on their phones, and the last two were chatting about their boyfriends. I felt out of the loop. But worse, I was a size 12 among size twos… At least, I hoped I was still a size 12…


I saw their thin, toned and tanned bodies with a slight modicum of nostalgia. Back when I used to force myself to do cardio for two hours every day, a few short years ago, my body had looked an awful lot like theirs. Now I didn’t look quite the same in a bathing suit. My affinity for Jack Daniels and the fancy cheese section at Whole Foods made sure of that.


As I slowly wriggled my plump ass into the red one-piece I’d been issued by Chuck, I noted another distinct difference between myself and the other girls. They all looked sleek and sexy with their high neck one-pieces, but Richard’s pervy dad had given me something more… vintage.


I don’t know, maybe he really didn’t have anything else in my size, but I don’t know. In front of everyone, I had to squeeze myself into a one-piece with a SWEETHEART NECKLINE!


For those of you who don’t know, a sweetheart neckline is a neckline that is low at the front and shaped like the top of a stylized heart. Basically, my bountiful cleavage was completely on display!


Luckily the adjustable straps provided enough support for my girls to feel comfortable, but this was a swimsuit for a tropical vacation, not a swimming test.


The other girls were speechless when I stood up and joined them in heading out to the pool. We were met by two male wannabe lifeguards, total Zac Efron types, who made no attempts to hide their obvious glances ogling my two massive and exposed flotation devices.


As usual, the instructor in charge of conducting the physical tests, barked the following orders:


“We will start the conditioning portion testing your ability to retrieve a 10lb dive weight from a depth of seven feet, surface and swim 20 yards with the weight using legs only. Then you must exit the pool without using a ladder within 100 seconds. Then for the next portion of the test, you’ll all get in the pool for a 5-minute tread using legs only. For the final portion of the test there is no time limit. You just need to swim 300-yards using either front crawl or breaststroke. Oh, and after your finished help yourselves to some free food at the snack bar before they close, they’re training new employees, and need the practice.”


In my head, the phrase ‘free food’ echoed around for a few moments. My stomach rumbled. I’d eaten a large breakfast and lunch already today, but yet, my body craved more.


Together we approach the deep end of the pool.


I smelled the chlorine and told myself…


I’m okay.


I’m okay.


I know this.


I can do this.


I’ve done it before.


There is free food waiting for me when I’m done…


The others take turns volunteering to go first, and I sit back and watch. The men are the fastest, but the girls aren’t shabby either. Then once everyone else has passed, all eyes turn toward my busty ass. Without a word, I hop in the water, with a much bigger splash than I intended. As I’m swimming down to retrieve the weight, I realize something.


I float a lot more than I used to.


My buoyant breasts and backside fight against my attempts to reach the bottom of the pool. However, when I retrieve my prize, my natural flotation devices actually seem to help me surface and stay afloat easier than usual. That being said, it’s still a struggle, and of all the potential lifeguards there, I’m the slowest to eventually drag the weight from the water.


However, finishing in 91 seconds was nine more seconds than I needed to pass and continue on.


For the five minutes tread my higher percentage of body fat once again ended up helping me a great deal, I didn’t even really need to use my legs very much to stay afloat. It was delicious watching the muscular boys and a few of the more muscled girls begin to struggle toward the four-minute mark as they fought to keep their heads afloat. It felt good to be better at something than them, even if it was just lazily floating there.


Then came the last test, the 300-yard swim. We all got in the pool at the same time and took off, I kept pace with the young’ins for about a hundred feet before I felt like my lungs were going to explode and I was forced to slow down.


F*ck.


As the others proceed to outpace me for the next fifteen minutes, I notice some massive side-eye from some of my fellow ladies. I imagine they are probably judging me for my slow pace, but I don’t care. In my head I’ve got an all I can eat buffet waiting for me at the end of this swim, so I keep going, no matter how much it hurts.


The others all finish well before I do, but I do eventually finish. Getting out of the pool, I heave myself up the ladder and roll onto my back to catch my breath, I have to be careful that my big breasts don’t slip out of my swimsuit.


How long had it taken me to finish? I didn’t know.


Did the others already grab their free food? I wasn’t sure.


As I lay there gasping for air to sooth my burning lungs and exhausted body, my thoughts continued to run wild…


I was once an athlete.


I can’t believe I was once an athlete.


This used to be easy…


Whatever…


Free food.


Free food.


Free food!


Chanting my new inner mantra in my head over and over again, I eventually found the strength to get to my feet, just in time to see the other newly certified lifeguards heading back to the locker rooms. Well, most of them. One of the guys was walking in my direction. The others seemed to stop and watch what he was doing.


“Hey!” He waved at me.


“Huh?” I muttered too tired and starving to really process what was happening just yet.


“Yes, you...the cute one!” He emphasized, as he stopped in front of me, blocking my way toward the concession stand and took an obvious glance at my oversized cleavage.


Too hungry to deal with this high school jock, I tried to step around him, but he sidestepped, blocking me again.


“Oooh, I get it. Playing hard to get, eh? Tee hee hee!” He stupidly laughed like the man-child he was.


“Um... Are you...talking to me?” I huffed, probably looking like a seal suffering from heat exhaustion.


“Phew, I finally got your attention. Aren't you a sly little minx!” He continued flirting much to my irritation, “So...what's your name, cutie?”


“My name? Well... It's Brook, but... Could you move out of my way, please? If I don’t eat something in about five seconds, I’m going to faint…” I pleaded, as the musclebound doof didn’t take the hint.


“Brook, eh? That's a cute name.” He mused to himself sounding quite proud.


“Oh...it is?” I echoed completely fed up with this distraction. I’d dealt with this type of guy many times before.


“I'm Dylan. But I'm sure you already knew that…” He began to blabber on, as I cut him off.


“Um...well, actually... Dylan. Excuse me, I have to go… eat.” I managed to shakily explain, as I tried yet again to step past him.


He cut me off again, and this time, I wasn’t going to stand for it. A flood of irritated energy flooded through me, and I blinked.


The next thing I knew, Dylan had fallen into the pool, the other onlooking lifeguards were all cheering and jeering in my direction and I was trudging toward the concession stand to get my free food.


I didn’t know what had just happened, but I didn’t much care. I needed to eat something. Right now.


The concession stand was located in the basement of the country club but separate from the club’s main kitchen. The only entrance was a side door near the entrance to the pool area for workers; however, to serve hungry pool goers like me a mini sliding concessions window had been installed on the side of the building fifty years ago or whatever. The wood frame looked old and slightly rotted, but the sliding window itself seemed new enough. It was not unlike one of those mom-and-pop ice cream shop windows.


After rounding the brick wall that acted as a noise barrier from the pool area and separated the small eating area from the locker room entrances, I approached the small square looking concessions window and knocked urgently on the glass for someone to open up.


After a moment, someone slid open the window. Another high school senior looking fellow.


“Sorry, we just closed. I’m the last one here, I’m about to lock up.” He informed me.


“What??? Noooo!!” I loudly cried, as dread filled my exhausted body. I felt like collapsing right there and then.


“Are you okay??” He asked sounding concerned for me all of a sudden, “You look sick.”


“I feel so hungry I could faint.” I pouted in exaggerated fashion, but that’s really how I felt. I swear. I think tears were falling from my cheeks.


“Oh no! That’s not good! Hold on, I’ll bring you some food right away!” He assured me.


“Really?? That would be wonderful!” I cheered trying to dry my eyes.


“So, what do you like? I’ll grab you anything you want.” He explained.


“Something delicious. I don’t particularly care what it is. I just want loads of it.” I frankly replied.


“Umm, all right. I guess that means you eat pretty much anything?” He questioned, looking a little taken off guard.


“Yup.” I assured him.


“Okay you stay put! I’ll go get something!” He replied.


“Can I have ice cream???” I managed to squeak before he wandered off.


“Umm, we only have one of those frozen yogurt machines, I’d have to make a new batch, and umm… I’d really hate for so much to go to waste.” He muttered.


“I can eat a whole batch.” I replied completely 100% honest.


“One batch is like ten pounds of ice cream. Nobody can eat that much.” He skeptically answered me.


“Well, I’m not nobody. I’m Brook Meadows. And I’m hungry.” I conveyed as seriously as I could.


“I don’t think we have any utensils left…” He muttered not sounding convinced.


“Just make me some ice cream!” I grunted losing my patience for this conversation. Once again, my hangry frustration overcame me, and I blinked…