Melissa's Journal by Maverick (SWG, Realistic)

Melissa's Journal by Maverick (SWG, Realistic)

Postby buzzy » Sun May 27, 2012 5:43 am

September 4th, 2004

Dear Diary,

Well, yesterday I moved into the dorm. I don’t think I’m going to like it here. I try to be open-minded, but it’s hard. Even as late as yesterday, I was optimistic things might work out, but now I’m having serious doubts.

The campus is beautiful and my room is spacious. In fact, it’s much larger than my room back home. At first, I was thrilled that I might have some privacy for a change. I figured after growing up with three sisters, having just one roommate would be a piece of cake--Boy, was I wrong. Little did I know I’d be sharing a room with a whole sorority house!

My roommate’s name is Sylvia and she’s a new pledge for Tri Alpha Beta. Apparently “rush week” was last week and even though I would NEVER want to be a part of such an elitist sham, I do feel left out. No fewer than twelve girls were in my room after I got back from today’s orientation and not one of them gave me the time of day. They were all crammed on Sylvia’s side listening to some God-awful boy band crappola. Of course, they were all giggling like 8th graders over how cute the singer is and how good the album was…God I hate “groupthink!” Sylvia did give me a casual “hey” as I walked through the door, but then went right back to her clique.

Allow me to elaborate a little bit on Sylvia. She’s every stereotype I’ve ever had about California girls wrapped in one perky-pukey package. She’s about 5’ 7”, 120 pounds, tan, platinum blonde…and vapid as hell. She is gorgeous though. To think, I was feeling pretty good about myself after losing five pounds before leaving home…Next to her I look like a pale whale. I know, I’m stupid to be so shallow, but it’s tough. In High School everyone knew the real me; I had four-years under my thirty-two inch belt to build a reputation NOT dependant on looks. Now I’ll be starting from square one (or square minus-one if I’m next to my roommate).

All the banners at orientation read: “Make a fresh start.” I don’t know if it’s worth the effort…

September 12th, 2004

Dear Diary,

I came home today to eleven messages on the answering machine; only one was for me (my mother). It’s bad enough that Sylvia has an entourage of bubble-headed bleach-blondes hanging around our room 24/7, but now—-one week into the school year--men are already salivating over her on the phone. I’m not usually the jealous type, but I guess being 1,000 miles from home with no friends and a bitchy roommate entitles me to a little envy.

Things are looking up academically; I enjoy my classes and my teachers are pretty cool. Why can’t I just take solace in that? Why am I letting “Ms. Goodbody” bother me? It’s not like she’s a horrible person; she actually can be nice. (She even invited me to sunbath with her and some of her sorority friends--though I have a sinking-suspicion I was merely invited to make her already perfect figure seem that much more perfect by contrast.) I think it’s just her whole “I’m so superior” attitude. Even though she doesn’t say anything, I catch her making disapproving glances at my “comfort first” wardrobe, or the gothic artwork on my side of the room, or--heaven forbid--when I eat something with more than five calories in it.

Of course, it doesn’t help that I’ve probably already put on about three of the five pounds I lost before coming here. (Damn greasy cafeteria food!) I had hoped to wait at least until the temperature dropped below 80 before breaking out the sweats, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that skinny little hussy--in her skin-tight jean shorts and tank-top--see my tummy bulge.

Maybe I need to start planting fudge on her side of the room. Ha! Ha!

Love,

Melissa

September 20th, 2004

Dear Diary,

Just when I think I’ve made a breakthrough with Sylvia, she makes me wonder why I even bother trying.

Last week, I made a conscientious effort to try and be friendly...and it wasn’t easy let me tell you! She rubs me the wrong way in just about every way: She’s superficial, two-faced, materialistic and conceited. All she did was shop, sunbath and bitch to me about her so-called friends. (The ones she was so nice to just a few minutes earlier.) Still, I figured we're going to be together for the next few months and it was at least worth SOME effort.

For a few days it was tolerable; she’s immensely popular (despite her seemingly transparent flaws) and hanging out with her at least let me meet some people. I was even hitting it off with a few of her less self-involved sorority sisters. I guess Sylvia didn’t like sharing the attention; however, because tonight at dinner--after I had just told a particularly funny fraternity joke that cracked-up the entire table--she turned to me as I ate my hamburger and fries and said, “Melissa dear, you really should be careful of the Freshman 15. You’ve already got a bit of a head start.”

I wanted to spit in that skinny little bitch’s salad!

Surprisingly, most of the girls at the table came to my defense, but my face was so flush with anger and embarrassment I didn’t stick around to hear. So here I sit--munching on chocolate-chip cookies and talking to you. Despite her nefarious intentions, Sylvia does have a point: I’d better take it easy...I don’t want to gain back what I lost and then some.

I think I’ll go for a run...I need to do some thinking anyway.

Love,

Melissa

September 28, 2004

Dear Diary,

It’s taken almost a month, but things are really starting to look up.

First things first: I got three A’s in a row on my first tests of the semester (English, Algebra and Psychology). They weren’t even that hard. Secondly, I have taken Sylvia’s advise (horror!) to “beware the Freshman 15” and for the last week I have been jogging regularly and eating better. Thirdly, and perhaps most exciting, I got a date! Ok, it was only to study, and Sylvia seems to get a call from a new guy every hour, but for me it was a major triumph. His name is Jason and he is CUTE!

Best of all, I detected the slightest hint of jealousy in Sylvia’s voice when I told her about it tonight. Apparently, he’s in her history class and--though she denies it--I think she has eyes for him. Ha! Ha! Did I mention how cute he was? Of course, Sylvia downplayed it and made a casual comment about how she already had two dates lined-up for that night. Normally I’d bite my tongue, but I was feeling a little bit cocky so I mentioned she might be better off studying! (She’s barely scraping by.) Needless to say, she didn’t like that too much and stormed off to the mall about thirty-minutes ago.

Between my good grades, my new exercise regime and my “date” with Jason, I suddenly feel empowered. I haven’t even let Sylvia bother me at all week (though she‘s tried). In fact, after thirty straight days it feels good to give her a taste of her own medicine.

Turnabout’s fair play, right?

Love,

Melissa

October 4, 2004

Dear Diary,

That BITCH!

I hate my roommate. If I wasn’t stuck with her until the end of the semester, I’d move out in a heartbeat.

She’s been trying to sabotage my diet. For the last week or so, little Miss Healthy has been stocking the fridge with all sorts of fattening goodies: soda, cookies, snack cakes, you name it. Of course, she continually parades around our dorm room looking like some hooker gone sorority, eating donut after donut while making obnoxious “Mmmm!” sounds...all the while showing off her invisible waist and narrow hips just to make sure I know what a cow I still look like next to her. How insecure can someone be?

Anyway, I’ve showed her; I haven’t taken any of the bait. (Well, maybe one Twinkie.) In fact, after running this morning I’m down to 150 pounds (two pounds less than when I got here!). Perfect timing too; I just got a call from Jason (the cute boy I studied with last week) and he asked me to a movie this weekend. He’s such a sweetie! I mentioned it to Sylvia a few minutes ago and her side of the room has been very quiet ever since. All I can hear is the constant crinkling of Ho Ho wrappers. (Talk about an appropriately named snack for her!)

Love,

Melissa

October 9, 2004

Dear Diary,

I’ve never had an emotional roller-coaster like last night...

Last night was my first official “date” with Jason. I was already nervous, but by the time he got to the room to pick me up, Sylvia had driven me way past neurotic. The entire time I was getting ready, she kept a running commentary: “You’re going to wear that?” “Don’t you have anything more slimming?” “Is Jason colorblind?” etc., etc. All the while, she munched incessantly on some giant, obnoxious, chocolate-chipped cookie that had my stomach growling like a pit-bull.

Oh, but it gets worse...When Jason finally gets to the room, she rushes to the door before I can answer it in her skin-tight, Daisy Duke shorts that only half-cover each cheek. “Hi Jason! C’mon in!” she coos (Ick! I can still hear her breathy voice echoing in my head!), before wiggling her way back to her side. Then, after his eyes are already bugged-out, she says, “My, my, it’s soooo hot in here” and takes off her shirt revealing nothing but a cleavage-packed sports bra! I’m sure no court would’ve convicted me had I strangled her right there.

To Jason’s credit, he did the best he could to ignore her and Sylvia finally plopped down on her bed and began eating chocolates from a large tin...Of course, she made a spectacle of it whenever Jason did glance over with lots of finger-licking and lip-smacking. I was afraid I’d have to pry Jason away with a crowbar, but he seemed as embarrassed by the display as I was and suggested we get going...Thank God!

Oops! It’s getting late. (I have a mid-term tomorrow morning.) I’ll have to finish the story later. (It gets MUCH better!)

Love,

Melissa

Dear Diary,

As promised, here’s the rest of my date night recap...

After my blood pressure finally returned to normal, I settled down and had a great time. Jason is a true gentlemen. We had a great dinner (I stuck to my diet! Woo hoo!) and then played a round of mini-golf. (I think he let me win.) We both had plans early the next morning (I had to meet a couple of Sylvia’s sorority sisters for an early-morning jog), so we called it a night fairly early. He walked me to the door, gave me a sweet hug and even kissed my hand!

I didn’t expect Sylvia to be home so early on a Friday night (It was only about 11 PM), but when I saw her TV was on my blood began to boil and I stormed over to her side to have it out with her. She was still in the seductive outfit she had been wearing hours earlier and fast asleep on her bed. I was about to wake her up when I noticed her side of the room: candy wrappers littered the foot of her bed and the tin that was once full of chocolates lay empty on her nightstand. A large pizza box with one remaining slice lay across Sylvia’s legs as she snored loudly; her open mouth stained red with tomato sauce. She had even unbuttoned her too-tight shorts to give her swollen belly some breathing room. As she breathed deeply, her tan little tummy rounded-out beyond the waistband and pushed the zipper further and further downwards (to the point I could see her white, thong underwear peaking out).

I couldn’t believe it: she had spent the entire Friday night in her room pigging-out by herself! I couldn’t help but chuckle as I thought about how it reminded me of how I used to be. I turned off her TV, tip-toed back to my side, and went to bed with a HUGE smile on my face.

Love,

Melissa

October 16th, 2004

Dear Diary,

It’s been a week since Jason and I first went out and we’re getting along great. At lunch, all the girls are full of questions: “What’s he like?”; “Is he really as nice as he seems?”; “Can he get me a friend?” are all questions that have been hurled my way the last few days. I have to admit that it’s been fun being the center of attention for a change.

It’s not sitting too well with Sylvia though; today at lunch she piped-in and said, “Frankly, I don’t know what you see in him. He’s kind of a nerd.”

Surprisingly, every girl at the table--even Sylvia’s most ardent devotees--came to my defense and made it clear she was all alone in her opinion. Sylvia grabbed her tray and stormed off, muttering something about us being “desperate” and “setting our sights low.” (She was hard to understand; her mouth was full of pie.)

After she left, Tonya (one of Sylvia’s sorority sisters) commented about how Sylvia was just jealous because no guys take her seriously and that it was obviously “her time of the month.”

“It’s been her time of the month all year,” another sister quipped. I couldn‘t help but smile as everyone piled on poor Sylvia, but I was positively giddy when Robin, supposedly one of Sylvia’s closest friends, watched as Sylvia sashayed her way through the cafeteria, turned to the rest of us and said:

“I think she’s put on weight.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Did Robin really say she thought Miss Perfect had put on weight? At that point, everyone at the table joined in with stories of Sylvia’s recent indulgences:

“She’s eaten nothing but burgers and fries all week,” said one girl;

“Every time I ask her to exercise with me she’s been making up some lame excuse,” gushed another;

“When we went sunbathing Saturday, her suit looked awfully snug,” Tonya smirked.

I was about to tell my story from the night of my first date with Jason, but Robin piped-in before I could. “Shhh! Here she comes...And look what she’s got!”

Next thing I knew, Sylvia was sitting back down with a giant bowl of ice cream complete with chocolate sprinkles and whipped-cream. We all nearly burst-out laughing.

“What?” Sylvia said, as a trickle of ice cream dribbled down the corner of her mouth.

I was THIS close to saying something like, “Beware the Freshman 15,” but I figured if she really was gaining weight why call attention to it? The other girls regained their composure and quickly changed the subject, but I couldn’t get my mind off the thought of Sylvia getting fatter and fatter with every bite of her calorie-laden treat.

Love,

Melissa

October 23, 2004

Dear Diary,

I have to admit that the last few days have been consumed with thoughts of Sylvia gaining weight. (I even had trouble concentrating on my mid-term exams!) Unfortunately, the day after Robin mentioned she thought Sylvia had put on weight a cold front moved through which had Ms. Skimpy Shorts dressed like Quinn the Eskimo. As a result, any images of a “fat” Sylvia have had to be mental.

Maybe its all wishful thinking anyway. I mean, two weeks ago Robin mentioned she was willing to “kill for her body.” It could have just been jealousy talking. Of course, you can’t ignore the fact that Sylvia’s turned into a major couch potato. I haven’t seen her exercise in weeks; she used to jog, gym and swim all in the same day, but lately it seems her only workout is walking downstairs to the vending machine, or to the campus Pizza Hut.

That’s another thing; until recently all she ate was salads and fruits…Now she’s done a total 180-degree turn: Burgers and fries for lunch and dinner; pizza for a late night snack and donuts in-between. (The junk food stash she originally tried to sabotage me with has dwindled and been replaced...Twice!) Fortunately, I’ve been able to avoid temptation. Knowing what I don’t eat will eventually make its way into Sylvia’s lithe little body has made it easier somehow!

All I know is, if I DID eat even half of what’s been in our fridge lately I’d be big as a house already. Of course, Sylvia’s West Coast hummingbird metabolism probably has most of it burned-off before it passes her pouty lips. Oh well, right now I’m more optimistic about her flunking-out than getting fat anyway; she rarely goes to class and I’ve yet to see her study.

Hope springs eternal!

Love,

Melissa

October 29, 2004

Dear Diary,

SYLVIA IS GETTING FAT!!!!

I don’t believe it...Sylvia, Ms. All-state cheerleader and health-nut, is getting FAT! Up until this morning, I couldn’t say I’d noticed a physical change. Despite Sylvia’s ravenous appetite and sloth-like behavior, her more demure Winter wardrobe had hidden any possible effects...But not anymore!

Most of the time I’m up and gone looong before Sylvia (she usually sleeps until about Noon), but for some reason she decided to go to class this morning. Anyway, I’m not used to that much noise (her hairdryer must be powered by Boeing) and immediately awoke to the sight of Sylvia primping in the mirror in just her bra and panties. I ALMOST just rolled over and buried my head under the pillow (I was still groggy evidently), but fortunately my eyes focused in time.

Now keep in mind, the first week of school--back when Sylvia actually attended class--the same thing would happen: I’d wake-up, take one look at her impossibly flat stomach, narrow hips, athletic thighs, gravity-defying ass and pert breasts, then cry myself back to sleep in a malaise of self-pity. But today was a completely different story.

The first thing I noticed was how pale she looked. She was still tan compared to me, but the bronzed, beach-blonde from orientation had dissolved with the arrival of fall. Her whitening flesh seemed to give her entire body a doughy look, but as my eyes adjusted I realized she wasn’t just whitening...she was widening!

Her stomach used to concave inwards beneath her ribs, but now pooched-outwards like someone had placed a bicycle pump into her bellybutton and pumped a half-dozen times. It was smooth and tightly-packed with a month’s worth of overindulgence, but it was more than just bloating; as she leaned from side-to-side and back-to-front, small folds of skin would bunch-up over the waistband of her too-tight panties making it clear that her “hummingbird-like metabolism” wasn’t quite keeping up with the constant barrage of French fires, pizza and ice cream.

Unfortunately, before I could give her a thorough inspection she threw on a bulky sweater that--much to my chagrin--instantly wiped-out any noticeable gain. (In fact, the only place she looked slightly bigger was her bust…Drat!). Despite this, I’ve been wearing a smile all day...One that got bigger when I heard the weather forecast for next week: sunny and unseasonably warm!

Love,

Melissa

PS: Jason just invited Sylvia and I to a Halloween party this weekend. I was initially pissed he invited Sylvia...until I found out it was a “Pimps and Hos” party. If she dresses like the “ho” she is, I might not be the only one to realize just how fat she’s getting...

October 31st, 2004

Dear Diary,

OK, so it's technically November 1st (it's 3 AM), but I just got back from Jason’s “Pimps-N-Hos” party and had to put some things to paper before I crashed. Wow, where to begin? The last few days have been such a whirlwind of activity, I think I'll have to make this a two-parter (at least!).

First things first, I found out the reason for Sylvia's sudden interest in class: She's flunking-out! I was straightening-up the room a couple nights ago getting ready for Jason to pick me up when I noticed--amidst the soda cans and candy wrappers--a letter on her desk on University letterhead. Normally, I'm not a busy-body, but I just had to see what it was about. Apparently, she's failing everything (and I mean EVERYTHING!). I guess even the most rudimentary classes (i.e. her "Practical Math 101" brain-buster) can be a challenge when you don't show. They were threatening her with "academic probation" which means NO extra-curricular activities. Just the thought of them taking away her sorority security blanket makes me smile.

It must have even dawned on Sylvia that "extra-curricular activities" meant more than making-out behind the football stadium; she's been going to class religiously all week. As I was preparing for my date, she even sat in bed reading her history book. I could tell it was difficult for her though; she kept glancing at the TV, chatting on the phone, and even visiting with li'l ol' me.

At one point, she asked me what I was wearing to Jason's party and I showed her the "Goth Hooker" ensemble I put together with my thigh-high boots and a black, leather bustier from Frederik's (I can fit in their upper-end sizes now!) that flatters my figure and gives me cleavage to rival Sylvia's...even with her plumped-up boobs!

Speaking of which, I was evil. She asked me what I did in order to help concentrate when I was studying and--even though she asked me with complete innocence and sincerity--I couldn't resist telling her that eating a snack or two always seemed to help. I went on to spout some nonsense about how working your jaw helped bring blood to the brain...which she bought hook, line and Snickers (several of them)!

We also had a giant bowl of Halloween candy for dormitory "trick-or-treaters" (it's kind of a campus ritual the night before Halloween) that was nearly gone by the time I came home to find Sylvia still sprawled-out in her bed “studying.” Candy wrappers outlined her prone body so perfectly it looked like she’d suffered a “death by chocolate.”

“Looks like we had quite a few trick-or-treaters,” I said, examining the empty bowl.

“Mmm, hmm,” Sylvia hummed through chipmunk-cheeks. “Tons of ‘em.” She turned a page of her book, leaving a brown smudge on the corner.

“So, what are YOU wearing to the party?”

Without averting her eyes from the text, she licked her chocolate-stained index finger and pointed towards the closet. Hanging on the door was a hot-pink tube top and black, spandex shorts.

“Wow, you’re going to look great in that.”

“I always do.”

I had to retreat to my side of the room to keep from laughing. I couldn’t decide which was funnier: that Sylvia assembled her “ho” outfit from her everyday attire, or that she felt she’d look so good in it after threatening the “freshman 15” in two months. (That’d be 70 plus pounds over the course of the school year. I bet even Sylvia could do the “practical math” on that one!)

It’s getting late. (I mean early!) I’ll have to give you the full update a little later. I’m meeting Robin for a jog in about 5 hours and can’t wait to talk to her about what happened at the party!

Love,

Melissa

November 1, 2004

Dear Diary,

OK, I've had a few hours sleep and my head's stopped spinning enough to tell more of last night's tale. It's a doozy!

Even though Sylvia and I got dressed for Jason’s party together, I concentrated FAR more on her appearance than my own. It was hard not to; she put on quite a show.

The first thing to get my attention were the "grunts" and "moans" emanating from her side of the room. Initially, I thought she had somehow snuck a guy in over the balcony, but when I glanced to her side she was bent-over--her bare butt fully mooning me--yanking and tugging her pink, spandex shorts inch by inch up her thighs. The further up they got, the more vocal she became, culminating in an orgasmic stream of groans as she stretched and pried the material (to a point of transparency) up and over her sizeable backside.

Finally over her plumpening posterior, Sylvia pulled them into position around her waist with a hop that sent a slight--but very noticeable--jiggle throughout her entire body and gently rattled the growing collection of shot glasses she keeps aligned like trophies along the window sill. (Another 20 pounds or so and it might have generated complaints from our first-floor neighbors!)

She then went to work on the tube-top. Now, back in my High School biology class we once watched a snake molt from its skin; it would writhe, wriggle and squirm until it was finally free from its too-tight cocoon...But I never thought I'd see the process in reverse until last night.

Sylvia got it over her head (as big as it is), but it stalled just above her breasts. Each time she yanked down on the top, it would mash her giant breasts towards the floor and force a healthy roll of belly fat up and over her shorts. The effect made her look downright matronly and, even though the roll would disappear somewhat between tugs and her breasts would regain some of their perkiness, it gave me an idea of what effect gravity could have given another few pounds to work with.

Eventually, she just mashed each breast flat against her chest with one hand, while yanking the top over it with the other. It was comical to watch and Sylvia was so preoccupied with her own struggles I probably could have just pulled-up a chair.

I kept waiting for some moment of realization when Sylvia would admit defeat, but it never happened. After thirty-minutes, she was flushed, sweaty and out of breath (it was the closest thing to a workout she'd had in weeks), but she was dressed. All I know is, if she showed as much determination with her studies as she did proving she could still fit into her into her "hot" clothes, she'd be on the Dean's List.

Anyway, after a little primping (or a lot in Sylvia's case), we were off to the party. Just before we got there, some of my old insecurities came flooding back. Even though Sylvia sported a bulging tummy and a fresh set of love-handles, she still looked pretty damn good and I knew I was still at least ten pounds heavier. Deep down, I knew I looked pretty good too--the outfit I wore really flattered my figure and I felt healthier and more confidant than I had in years--but a part of me couldn’t get past the fact that I’d be making my entrance next to the “great Sylvia Sweetwater” and would look like some dumpy tag-a-long.

As soon as we entered, however, I realized I needn’t have worried.

I'm off to the gym, more in a bit...

Love,

Melissa

November 1, 2004

Dear Diary,

Whew! Nothing like a good workout to get the juices flowing. Hopefully, I can finish the rest of last night’s tale in one fell-swoop...

All eyes were on Sylvia as we entered the party. Initially, my heart sank; despite my best efforts it seemed I was destined to play second-fiddle to the not-so-little skank.

As she strutted through the center of the crowd, however, I noticed something strange: rather than the love-sick puppy looks from the guys, and envious gazes from the girls, the faces we passed were mostly blank. I’m sure Sylvia interpreted the open-mouth stares as vindication of her jaw-dropping beauty, but the looks of bemusement quickly turned to amusement as everyone at the party began to realize what I had known for about a week now: Sylvia Sweetwater was getting fat!

It actually WAS pretty comical; the extra junk in Sylvia’s trunk had turned her well-rehearsed wiggle into more of a jiggle. Her hips, which a couple months ago gently swayed in a hypnotic mating dance of sexuality, now shook and jerked like a hyperactive metronome. The show in front was just as good; Sylvia’s bulbous breasts still led the way into the room, but her belly wasn’t far behind.

Had she dressed more appropriately, her stomach would’ve still looked relatively flat, but the too-tight spandex shorts forced her new-found flesh up and over the waistband like a sausage exploding from its casing. Her belly hung over by a good inch and an emerging set of “love handles” rounded-out and formed a delicate, yet perceptible crease along her sides where her ribcage meets her waist.

Ordinarily, Sylvia would’ve been mobbed at a party like this (both by guys wanting do her and girls wanting to be her) but, other than a few cursory waves and obligatory hellos, we made it to the food table unobstructed. Jason came up to me and started talking, but I was far too interested in the spectacle to pay much attention.

For her part, Sylvia just tapped her foot and waited for her usual entourage to gather...but it never came. Instead, people watched her from a distance like she was an exhibit at the Cheap Slut Museum. Guys would scour her frame, smirk, then gather and whisper, while the girls were even less discreet.

Even though Sylvia is thick as a brick (mentally...though she’s getting there physically), I could tell the snide chortles and sideways glances were making her uncomfortable. Not knowing what to do or how to react, she became fidgety and grabbed a couple cookies to nosh on. To my delight, this only exacerbated the situation. When it finally dawned on Sylvia that her appearance was the source of the amusement, she began to pull her tube-top down in a self-conscious attempt to hide her tummy, but its protrusion kept forcing the material back up every few seconds. It was a riot!

I finally abandoned Sylvia and went about enjoying the party. Jason had left in a huff (the poop!), but I was at no loss for company. Several guys who I had initially met through Sylvia a couple months ago came up to introduce themselves. It put me off a little that they couldn’t remember meeting me, but I couldn’t argue with the attention I was getting. At one point, I pulled-down on my top too--not to cover the pork around my belly like Sylvia--but to uncover my breasts just a touch. It must’ve worked because there was a guy by my side the entire night. Occasionally, I would send one to get me a drink in order for another to muscle their way in. I had a BLAST!

In fact, I totally forgot about Sylvia until the party was near its end. When I finally looked around to see how the poor girl was doing, I couldn’t believe what I saw: a half-dozen people were gathered around the bimbo, laughing and hanging on her every drunken, vapid word! My jaw hit the floor!

Ty Spencer, a man who Sylvia rebuffed at every turn and openly referred to as a “dweeb,” freshened-up her beer. Janet McIntosh, a sorority sister that Sylvia argued against inducting because of her “big shnoz,” brought her a pumpkin cupcake from the snack table. Evelyn Marks, a young woman brought to tears when Sylvia made fun of an unfortunate zit on her nose a few weeks ago, shared a heaping plate of sugar cookies with her. What the hell was wrong with these people?!?

Then, as I watched Dave Dombrowski hand-feed her a chocolate truffle and Sara Silverman bring her yet another cupcake, it occurred to me: They weren’t being friendly; they were fattening her up! From the looks of Sylvia’s ridiculously-distended belly, it appeared the abuse had been going on for quite a while now. It was perfectly spherical and rounded-out far beyond her over-taxed shorts, forcing them down below her panty line (Her stomach obscured the view, but it looked as if Sylvia has been remiss in shaving the past few weeks!) I was sure it was painful, but Sylvia was too drunk--both with beer and attention--to care.

As a finale for the evening, Rex Tucker--a football player Sylvia dated for about a week in September--stood on a chair in the center of the room and presented a “beer bong” consisting of a giant funnel attached to a clear hose.

“Who’s first?” He yelled, acting like a firebrand to the already rowdy crowd.

Initially, there was no response, but slowly a chant developed: “Syl-vee-ya! Syl-vee-ya! Syl-vee-ya!” Sylvia held her hand up in protest, but the chant got louder and louder. By the time I joined in, she had already been escorted into position next to the chair and the tubing shoved into her mouth. Everyone screamed their approval as Rex cracked the first beer and poured it into the funnel, sending the amber liquid coursing past Sylvia’s delicate lips and into her gaping maw. Before the contents of the first was empty, Ted Simmons, another of Sylvia’s conquests, was there to hand him another...and another...and another.

What had been a friendly party suddenly seemed more like a lynch mob. Everyone methodically chanted “Go!” as beer after beer flowed through the tubing, but it seemed more like a command for Rex, who poured a continuous stream of beer into the funnel, than encouragement for Sylvia. Of course, Sylvia didn’t realize this and--happy to be the center of attention--gamely chugged and chugged.

By the forth beer, however, Sylvia was starting to flag. Her peaches-and cream complexion turned bright-red and her cheeks bulged like Dizzy Gillespie at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Her stomach, which seemed at capacity to begin with, visibly inflated like a water balloon attached to a spigot. Her eyes widened as the fifth beer was poured...then the sixth. Beer dribbled down her chin.

Sweat poured from her brow. Halfway through the sixth beer, her stomach--having reached the limits of its elasticity--stopped expanding and emitted a loud gurgle of protest, but Sylvia kept going. (I guess she didn’t want to disappoint her “fans”.) At some point, I raised my hands to my face and watched through the narrow slits of my fingers just like at a horror movie...I just knew something bad was going to happen.

Fortunately for Sylvia, a six-pack was all that was handy (I don’t think they would’ve stopped otherwise) and the only thing that erupted as the last beer emptied into the bloated blonde was a loud cheer. Sylvia, the polished performer she is, acknowledged the crowd with a smile and a wave...Then passed-out into crumpled heap on the floor.

So, now you know last nights events. Quite an evening to say the least! As I write this, it’s 4 PM the day after and Sylvia is still asleep her beer-soaked hoochie-wear. (Tonya, Robin and I helped her to bed, but didn’t bother undressing her...Though that would’ve been fun to see!)

Dinner with the girls should be extra fun tonight!

Love,

Melissa

PS: I just checked to make sure Sylvia was breathing (she was) and noticed a long, bright-red stretch-mark running from her abdomen to just under her bellybutton! Seems little Miss Perfect is getting a few imperfections!

November 8, 2004

Dear Diary,

I feel like I’ve been living in “Bizarro World” lately. Last night I came home to eight messages on the machine; six of them were for me. (It’s the first time I’ve EVER had more than Sylvia.) Of course, I had to milk it for all it was worth and, after mentioning I had deleted my SIX messages, asked her if she wanted me to save her TWO. I could tell it was killing her, but she somehow mustered a polite smile and said “no thank you”, before ripping the wrapper off a Hershey’s Kiss and shoving it in her mouth.

It seems Ms. Priss is in a bit of a slippery-sloped conundrum: Either work to salvage her rapidly-falling social status and risk flunking-out, or buckle-down and study and risk dropping off the social map altogether. To her credit, this last week she’s really been hitting the books. Meanwhile, I’ve been enough of a social butterfly for the both of us: I’m playing on the intramural volleyball team, working on the freshman student council, and have befriended so many Tri Alpha Betas that I feel like an honorary member.

I can sense Sylvia’s pain as she watches me rush off to meet Jason, or one of her sorority sisters at a bar, while she’s cooped-up at her desk. Don’t worry though; I’ve been careful to make sure she has plenty of munchies to keep her company while I’m gone. (I’m bad, I know!)

Lest you think I’m a total monster, I actually volunteered to type an important History report for her while she ran off to the library. (She’s a notoriously slow typist...I don’t think her delicate fingers are used to the manual labor.) At least, I was planning on typing it for her until I found out her visit to the “library” was actually a three-hour shopping excursion to the mall with some friends.

Hmmm...Now that I think about it, I may still type it. It’s a surprisingly good paper and I can tell Sylvia put a lot of time into it, but I still think it’s in need of some “improvements.”

Love,

Melissa

November 15, 2004

Dear Diary,

Well, it’s official: Sylvia was suspended from the Tri Betas. Apparently, her efforts to get her grades up the last couple weeks were for naught. (Although I doubt the “improvements” I made to her history paper on the evolution of the Gold Standard helped her cause much.)

That’s not even the best part; the best part is I’ve been nominated to take her place! It has to go to vote, but since I’m already friends with most of the girls and have participated in many of their functions (some of the girls even call me “sis”) it seems to be a no-brainer. I’m on cloud nine!

Speaking of “no-brainers,” Sylvia is more than a little upset. I expected some serious verbal fireworks, but all she’s done since she found out is cry. It’s really taken the fun out of it. Some of the other girls and I took her out for some “comfort food” in order show there were no hard feelings, but all she did was blubber in her burger. It was pretty pathetic.

While we were out, we assured her that she could rejoin next semester once her grades improved and Tonya even said she could bypass the initiation and hazing rituals (not likely if I have a vote). I had to chuckle, however, when Robin said Sylvia would always be her “little sis”; the way she tore through that double-bacon cheeseburger and strawberry malt made me think she wouldn’t be a “little” anything much longer. The roll of fat that billowed and rolled out from her jeans as she ate seemed to agree with me.

It was weird; even though I felt the other girls were being sincere in their apologies, I couldn’t help but notice they seemed to be enjoying Sylvia’s gluttonous exploits as much as I was. In fact, I’m quite certain Tonya gave me a little wink as she set a hot fudge sundae in front of Sylvia for “desert.”

“I love you guys,” was all Sylvia could stammer before breaking down again. Of course, it didn’t keep her from hoisting spoonful after giant spoonful of the frozen treat past her fudge-stained lips.

The rest of us just sipped our Diet Cokes and smiled…

Love,

Melissa

November 22nd, 2004

Dear Diary,

Jason and I broke up yesterday. He kept saying that I’ve “changed” and that I wasn’t the same girl he first met. All I can say is thank heaven for that! Who wants to be a fat wallflower? Oh well, good riddance. He was a nice guy, but Sylvia was right (shocking I know); he really was a bit of a nerd and he obviously didn’t realize just how good he had it with me. He’s going to find out pretty quick though; I just bought some new outfits that will let everyone on campus know just how available I am!

Unfortunately, I’m going home for Thanksgiving break on Wednesday so I won’t have much time to strut my stuff. It’s funny; a couple months ago I was willing to walk home, but now I’m having too good a time to leave. It will be nice to see the folks, but the life I’m leading here is FAR more interesting. The thought of sitting at home playing Scrabble with mom and dad makes me cringe.

I guess it’ll be nice to have a break from Sylvia at least. Recently, she’s gone from boorish to just plain boring. She’s even cancelled her Thanksgiving trip to California in order to stay here and study for finals. It’s too bad really; I was looking forward to her parent’s reaction as she got off the plane with all that excess baggage (and I’m not talking about her four Gucci suitcases!).

Oh well, I guess I’ll have to work to make sure her stockings are extra stuffed when she goes home for Christmas!

Love,

Melissa

November 29th, 2004

Dear Diary,

What a strange Thanksgiving. I just got back to the dorms and it seems like everyone around me has gone crazy (especially my roommate).

First of all, I was only gone five days, but it seemed like fifty. When did my parents become such pains in the ass? They overreacted to everything: my weight (I thought they’d be thrilled), my wardrobe (I’m certainly not going to hide my newly-flat belly under sweaters), and even my grades. (So they’ve slipped a bit. College is more than just academic mumbo-jumbo.) By the time I left, they were even complaining about my “attitude.”

Just because I refused to eat mom’s turkey (Tonya told me they’re full of steroids and growth-hormones) and didn’t feel like hanging-out at home watching movies, doesn’t mean I’ve got an attitude problem.

Then I got in from the airport this morning and things got even weirder. My room was totally dark; the shades on the windows were drawn and the blinds on the balcony door were shut-tight. As I fumbled around for a light, I nearly broke my neck on a beer bottle and an empty box of Little Debbie snack cakes. The place was an absolute pig-sty! Pizza boxes, fast food bags and countless beer bottles littered the floor and every conceivable nook and cranny.

The light from my desk didn’t illuminate much, but it was obviously too much for my hung-over roommate as a painful groan emanated from the other side of the room.

“Looks like I missed a helluva party.” I was more than a little pissed.

“Huh?” Sylvia’s weary voice croaked. “I didn’t have a party.”

“Whatever. I’m going to class. Just clean this shit up, will ya?”

What a lying bitch. As I gathered up my books; however, it occurred to me: Maybe she was telling the truth. Almost all our friends had gone home for the holidays (except Jason and a couple others) and I know she was more than a little depressed. Perhaps she really had spent the last five days in a self-destructive orgy of junk food and alcohol.

I glanced over the partition to her bed. Even though it was dark, I could see Sylvia’s silhouette as she lay on her side. A blanket rounded across her hips, but she was otherwise naked. Her upper-arm rested lazily on top of her pendulous breasts, pressing them into the crumb-filled sheet and forcing the flab around her meaty bicep to spread out against them.

Her heavy belly--seemingly in a perpetual state of bloatedness the last few weeks--now sagged across her body towards the mattress as if looking for a place to lie down after too large a meal. One more piece of pizza (or the last remaining donut from the box on her dresser), and it would probably reach its destination.

Imagining five-day’s worth of pizza, burgers and beers turning to soft, jiggly fat as she slept gave me a jolt of pleasure that bordered on sexual. I felt compelled to give her a more thorough inspection, but thought better of it and quickly tip-toed from the room to leave Sylvia in her food coma.

As I stole one last glance before shutting the door, however, I couldn’t help but notice it was more than just her ass taking up the rest of the bed. The flare of her widening hips almost hid the mound curled-up beneath the bedspread behind her, but I could tell someone was doing their best to remain undetected.

I guess if I was desperate enough to shack-up with that skank, I’d want to remain anonymous too!

Love,

Melissa

December 7, 2004

Dear Diary,

It’s official; I’m skinnier than Sylvia is. I don’t know when we officially crossed-paths, but it was probably several weeks ago. I guess a part of me just refused to accept that “Miss Goodbody” could possibly be fatter than I was...or maybe it was because I hadn’t completely come to terms with the fact that I was no longer fat. Regardless, all that changed today...

130. That’s what the scale at the gym read after my morning workout. I had to stare at it for awhile; it just didn’t seem possible. That’s nearly twenty-five pounds less than when I arrived here in August and a weight I haven’t seen since sometime in the eighth grade (when I quickly passed it on the way up).

When I got back to the room, Sylvia was still out (she had spent the previous night with her mysterious new boyfriend) so I took the time to examine my new figure in the mirror: My stomach was flat (no more love-handles); my breasts were perky (gravity had loosened its grip); and my ass--though still curvy--was smooth and firm to the touch. In fact, I couldn’t resist running my hands across every square inch of the new me. I was hot!

However, the ultimate test came when I spied a pair of Sylvia’s jeans draped across her desk chair. I knew they were new; they weren’t nearly as tight on her as the hip-huggers she was finally forced to abandon early last month, but I had no idea they were a SIZE 10! My comfy jeans when I first got here were only a size 12!

At that point, I should’ve known they’d be too big for me, but it still didn’t stop me from squealing with delight as they pulled effortlessly over my hips and fastened with a three-inch gap of space between my naval and the snap. In fact, my hips were barely wide enough to hold them up without a belt. The way they hung low and sagged beneath my butt, I looked like one of those wanna-be gangster-kids! I can’t get over the fact that Shanna actually fills them to capacity. (If anything, they’re starting to get a little snug!)

Still in a happy daze, I decided to REALLY test my luck. I went to Sylvia’s closet and, after digging beneath the bulky sweaters and sweatshirts she’s been wearing religiously the last month, found her hot-pink, spandex shorts she retired that fateful Halloween night five-weeks ago. They looked so tiny; like a neon dinner napkin. If it wasn’t for the number I saw on the scale a few hours earlier, there would be no way in Hell I’d even think about trying them on. But I did...

And they fit! Not great; my ass still looked pretty big in them and my lower abdomen pooched-out a bit, but I looked better in them than the last time Shanna pried them on. I was giddy! The only thing that tempered my excitement a bit was knowing swimsuit season was still several months away. Of course, by that time I fully-expect to be smaller than Sylvia ever was...and fully-expect she’ll be struggling to fit into my “fat” pants.

Love,

Melissa

December 13, 2004

Dear Diary,

Ever since Sylvia first shacked-up with her new mystery man she’s been, for lack of a better word...Nice. It’s been pathetic! Yesterday, she asked me about my classes and at lunch practically played “20 Questions” with each and every girl. It’s obviously a desperate attempt to curry favor. Thankfully, most of the girls see through her pleasantries for who she’s become: the fat girl trying to fit-in with the cool kids.

It’s common knowledge around campus that Sylvia is getting to be a real porker and basically the only reason we still keep her around is the amusement factor.

For example, "Guess Sylvia's Boyfriend" has replaced "Guess Sylvia's Weight" as the popular lunchtime game among the Tri Betas this past week. (For the record, 150 pounds was the popular consensus as of last week and I'd wager she's added a couple more this week. Whoever this mystery man is, he's obviously been keeping her well-fed.)

Nobody's really sure why she's being so tight-lipped about it (her lips are plenty loose when food is around), but when Tonya asked her about him today in the cafeteria, all she did was grin like the cat that ate the canary (along with three pieces of pizza, a side of fries and some soft serve). After she left for class--and we made the obligatory comments about how big her ass was getting--I suggested that maybe this "mystery man" wasn't a man at all.

Tonya practically choked on her chicken salad. "Oh my God, I bet you're right!"

"No wonder she's getting so, um, husky," Robin added.

"If she's supposed to be the man, I wonder if she'll cut-off her hair," Janet piled on.

It was quiet for a moment as we all visualized Sylvia minus her luxurious, blonde locks, but soon we were back to gossiping. Tonya told a story about a friend of hers (well, a friend of a friend) who went lesbian in college. Robin commented that Sally Levens (a Junior Tri Beta who recently bobbed her hair) had always been a little overly-appreciative of Sylvia's looks and wondered if she might have some experience “laying carpet.”

As the table roared with laughter, a small part of me felt bad for suggesting something that was quickly taking on a life of its own. I really don’t know why; Sylvia is only getting what she deserves.

Love,

Melissa

December 16, 2004

Dear Diary:

“I’m dating Jason!”

That’s how Sylvia greeted me this afternoon as I was getting ready to take the plane home.. She shot into our room like a greased-pig; parked her fat-ass next to me and just blurted it out.

“What?” I said, looking up from my suitcase. My flight home for Semester break was in less than two-hours.

“You heard me.” Sylvia stormed to her side of the room, rattling everything that wasn’t bolted down in the process. “Merry Christmas!”

My face flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. (She had obviously traced the lesbian rumors back to me.) Mostly though, it was just anger.

“Whatever you say...Porky.”

Until that point, I had been careful not to mention Sylvia’s weight-gain (at least not in front of her face), but now the gloves were off. She looked like she had been struck in the face.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me.” I nonchalantly went back to packing. Sylvia stomped back to my side.

“Just because I’ve gained the Freshman Fifteen, doesn’t mean...”

“Freshman Fifteen? You mean Freshman Fifty!”

“I have not gained fifty pounds!”

At that moment, our downstairs neighbors pounded on their ceiling in response to Sylvia’s elephant-like plodding. The timing was perfect.

“Maybe not,” I said, “but it’s a good thing Christmas isn’t next month or you’d probably make it. What I wouldn’t give to be at the airport when your family picks you up.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t you think they’ll notice that their little girl isn’t so little anymore? I wonder what they’ll say.”

The Sylvia of four-months ago would’ve kicked my ass. Today’s Sylvia welled-up with tears. For some reason it made me angrier.

“Why are you being so mean to me?”

I honestly wasn’t sure. I hadn’t even talked to Jason in weeks, but for some reason the thought of him with her was driving me crazy...And the more I thought about it, the crazier I got.

“Y’know, I can’t believe I actually used to be jealous of you; the looks you got from guys; your perfect body. I’m not going to feel sorry that you’ve completely let yourself go. In fact, it’s helped me a ton...”

I was on a roll now; I circled Sylvia like a wolf stalking a fatted calf.

“I can’t tell you how good it’s felt getting skinnier and skinnier while you’ve gotten fatter and fatter; the way more guys call me now than they do you; the way I can fit in your “skinny” clothes while you’d have trouble getting in my “fat” ones. Look at you; I bet you weigh more than I did when I got here...”

Sylvia didn’t say a thing. She just stood there--staring at the ground with her shoulders slumped--swallowing everything I dished-out. I think she half-expected me to poke her bloated belly, or pinch her meaty upper-arms.

“In fact, you’re getting SO fat that it’s not even fun to make fun of you anymore. All the girls used to snicker every time we’d see you walking out of the cafeteria with a huge bowl of ice cream and guess how much weight you’d gained, comment on how tight your pants were getting and secretly hope you’d keep growing. Now it doesn’t matter; you’re just another fat girl who has no friends, can’t get a decent date, and to tell you the truth may as well of been fat your whole life because I can’t even remember the Sylvia that turned guys heads and made me love to hate her.”

With that, I gathered my suitcase, rushed from the room and slammed the door behind me...But not before catching a final glimpse of Sylvia standing in the middle of the room sobbing. She looked younger; the extra pounds had softened her womanly curves and given her a cherubic baby-face. More than that; however, I noticed her body language: arms folded, head down, shoulders slumped. The temptress façade she’d been hiding behind had been completely stripped-away.

It was at that moment I saw Sylvia for who she really was: a scared, insecure, little girl. It was also the moment I saw myself for who I’ve become: Sylvia. Not even Sylvia really, but my preconceived notion of her (which is far worse). Right now, all the misplaced hatred I had towards Sylvia has been transferred to me.

My trip to the airport was a complete fog and my heart has finally—thirty-minutes into my flight home—stopped racing. What hasn’t stopped racing is my mind. I can’t get the look on Sylvia’s face out of my head.

I imagine it will be haunting me for awhile...

Love,

Melissa

PS: I’m writing this entry on United Airlines stationary. In my haste, I accidentally left my journal at the dorm. Hopefully, it will be secure over the break.
buzzy
Transformation Master
 
Posts: 135
Joined: Sat May 26, 2012 6:40 am

Return to Maverick

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest