Date: Sat, 16 Dec 2000 09:58:03 EST
From: Sarah Barndt
Subject: Generic Brand Hero

Generic Brand Hero

by Sarah Barndt

    I was, admittedly, a loser. I was a 24 year old college drop-out who
worked at a video store and lived in my parent's basement. Add to that I
was 5'5, scrawny and kind of weaselly looking. Well, as you could imagine,
I was beating the babes off with a stick. Actually you could describe my
love life by removing the words "the babes" and "with a stick" from the
last sentence.  The only thing that kept my Dad from thinking I was a
complete failure was I loved football, just like him. While he actually
played the game, I had placed the occasional wager. One night, real late, I
was watching TV and saw an informercial for generic celebrity DNA. I'd been
doing a joint and sucking back some brews by then so maybe I wasn't
thinking straight. I could never afford a real DNA transplant and become a
twin of some celebrity, but these guys were offering a chance to look 'a
lot like that celebrity of your dreams'. Since they didn't pay royalties to
the celebrity, their rates were lower. On the other hand, you didn't look
exactly like the celebrity either. That was OK with me. I wanted more a
'body type' than a look anyway. I went to their website to see who they had
available and what the prices were. I wanted to become a twin of a football
player. This was no small decision. Any DNA transfer was a one-way,
once-in-a-lifetime deal. Nobody could survive a second DNA treatment so
there was no way to reverse or fix any mistakes. It was still very
expensive, but within the range of possible for me.

    As I thought, even ersatz DNA for the super-stars was way too
expensive.  Except O.J. Simpson, but that came with an indemnification
agreement 30 pages long. "The purchaser agrees to hold the seller harmless
for all aberrant or anti-social...." Better find someone else. Looking
around the less well known NFL players I found one I could afford, Dan
Owens, a Detroit Lions linebacker. He even looked a little like my Dad in
his younger days. I placed the order and maxed out my VISA card. I guess I
should mention now that I was, slightly, wasted by now and I mis-typed my
order. I didn't enter DAN Owens, I had typed in DANA Owens, otherwise known
as Queen Latifah. I hit the ENTER key and took the first step to becoming a
new man. Little did I know..........

	A few days later UPS dropped off a package for me. I looked at the
vial. Taking that stuff was a big a decision, so like everything else in my
life, I put it off for a while. Later that night I was my usual buzzed
self. I saw a beer commercial where these jocks switch their brand of lite
beer and hook up with the Swedish Bikini Team. Do I have to mention the
vial was empty in 2 minutes? The instructions said I wouldn't notice too
many changes right away since I was mutating (mutating!) at a genetic
level. Later on these changes would become visible as RNA altered, which
would change my DNA.

	As they said, I seemed to have a low-grade fever and a touch of
fatigue for a couple of days, but that passed and I felt fine. I noticed my
appetite picked up. A week later it was obvious I was gaining weight. For
the first time in my life, clothes didn't fit like on your average scare
crow. It was working. At least, I hoped it was. A month later I was 30
pounds heavier. Everybody noticed and commented, but the comments were all
good. It was about then I started to get taller. This was fantastic!

	Over the next month I grew from 5'5" to 5'7". I grew so fast my
joints hurt now and then, even my pelvis. I couldn't hide the truth anymore
so I told my folks I had taken a DNA treatment. Naturally, my mom was
worried, but my Dad was thrilled when I told him it was a football player's
DNA. My mom was won over when my dad said,"June, now he'll be able to get a
date- with a girl." Gee, thanks dad. However, that did please my mom.

	During the third month I grew to 5'9", though I thought my hip bone
was getting kind of wide and my shoulders hadn't changed much yet. Another
thing. I had been lifting weights since I took the DNA and though my
muscles were firmer and I felt better, they weren't getting as big as I
though they should. My big concern was Dan Owens had used steroids. I
wanted to be big and muscular but I didn't want to use that stuff. Like
tinkering with my DNA was much better, but no one had ever died from DNA
transfers. Towards the last week of the month I felt tired and had an upset
stomach all the time. It got worse and worse to point I didn't go in to
work. Eventually it became a severe cramping. This got worse, too until I
collapsed onto my bed. My fever came back and I got vague. I must have
fallen asleep because it had been night and now it was sunny.

	My dad had already left for work and Mom was cleaning the breakfast
dishes when she, first, heard me scream, then burst into the kitchen
naked. She gasped and dropped a bowl, but not from seeing me naked- not
exactly anyway. She gasped when she saw, as I had earlier, my new vagina!

	I was so desperate I asked her examine me and make sure what I saw
was really what I saw. It was. She called my Dad at his office. From the
her responses I guess she told him what had happened. She had me put on a
robe and we waited, oddly quiet, for my Dad to come home. He came home
about an hour later. He looked at me an said, "Moron."

	For the next few minutes he launched into a tirade about how I
couldn't do anything right; how this wouldn't have happened if I had a real
life and not depended on 'magic pills' to make my life better. All true,
I'm afraid. He was a corporate lawyer and had called GENERIC BRAND HEROES
to see what had happened. They were in the clear. I had ordered Dana Owens
and I had received Dana Owens. From the looks of things I was becoming Dana
Owens, too. They did offer a refund since Dana Owens sold for less than Dan
Owens. Thanks dad. I'll be needing that money.... for bras!!!!

	Being true upper-middle class suburbanites, we decided to hide my
condition as long as possible. Maybe it would 'go away' or no one would
notice. Sure. The only other black women in this neighborhood all wore
maid's uniforms. They'd notice. But for now at least, I still looked like
me, as long as I didn't drop my pants.

	The next few weeks passed almost normally. I went to work, came
home, watched TV and got wasted. Physically I looked the same but I
definitely was losing strength. My muscles looked the same but just weren't
as strong as before. But things changed. I had my first period. That was
awful. Mom showed me what to do and I stayed home from work 'with the
flu'. After that, the whole world seemed different to me. I didn't feel
like myself anymore. I had become a visitor to my own life. The most
frightening thing was Carl.

	He worked with me and was my best friend, sort of. We didn't hang
out because he was bi, which to me meant gay but not pushy about it. After
I had my period he started to look........ well......... attractive. The
idea of it made me ill but I was getting so horny lately. Though it was
still new to me, I was already adept at massaging my clitoris to orgasm,
but more and more I wanted ..........more. They say stress isn't caused by
not knowing what to do, but from knowing what to do and not wanting to. I
wanted a man inside me.

Chapter 2:

	I spent the rest of the shift chatting with Carl. I really tried
not to flirt but I was starting to get new, and unwelcome, feelings. Maybe
I was flirting, I had no way of knowing, but we went out for beer after
work. He asked me how my change was going. He knew all about my desire to
look like a football player. Maybe he was flirting with me! It was hard,
but I told him about my mistake and how I was becoming like Dana Owens, not
Dan.

"You mean Queen Latifah?" he asked in surprise.  "Uh huh," I mumbled.  "But
she's a- a- woman! And she's got big...." He held his hands in front of his
chest.  "yes, I know." I looked away.  "Wow. How far along are you? You
don't like like a sister yet." I should have mentioned Carl was black. Like
me, he was from an upper, middle class family. Unlike me, he was still in
school, getting an MBA, and very ambitious.  "No. I'm obviously not black
yet, but I'm female now.... completely female," I said, hoping he'd get my
meaning.

"But you don't look....Oh, I get it. Down there."  "yeah. Down
there.... and I'm really horny lately," I looked right at him, hoping he
understood what I was asking. He did.

"Oh. Uh, you want to go back to my place.. to talk?" he asked clumsily.
"Sure. We can talk... after."  We left together. I was scared shitless but
I really needed a fuck so bad I put all other thoughts aside.

	He, too, lived with his parents, for now anyway. He had a future
and was saving up for a house when he finished his MBA. Ambitious people
always impressed me. Not enough to become one, of course, but none the less
they impressed me. We both knew why we were here, but Carl remained a
gentleman. He offered me a drink. I think I said yes too quickly and too
loud because he looked at me funny, but I really needed a drink. I threw it
down and asked him to dim the lights. I didn't want any preliminaries. I
took off my clothes and got into his bed. He followed. I did try to act the
female I now was and lay back, spreading my legs. I was wet already but
Carl needed some coaxing to an erection, but when he did .. WOW! He had to
be 10 inches or more! His balls looked like plums! What was I doing! He'll
split me in two! Suddenly, in recognition of my future.. and his past, I
had him wear a rubber. Fortunately for both of us, he had some. But he did
rip my hymen and that hurt a bit. Otherwise, it was kind of nice. I can't
say I saw stars but I felt very... comfortable, with his penis in me. I
sighed as his semen filled me up. Ooooo I suddenly felt VERY female and
started nibbling his ear. However, when I came down from my 'glow' I felt
very much like a homo and VERY ashamed. I got dressed in a hurry, thanked
Carl, and went home.

	I didn't talk to Carl about it at work the next day and I didn't
tell my mother, but after work I asked him if he wanted to 'talk' again. He
said yes. Again I went to his place. I had a real orgasm this time. Not a
big one, but definitely a female orgasm. As they say, practice makes
perfect. I went home with Carl almost every night and within a week I was
squealing, clawing his back and yelling his name whenever we made love. It
was great and getting better all the time. We started to trade secret
glances at work, and chuckle at private jokes. We came to expect to spend
time together. My name was James, then, but my nickname changed from Jim to
Jamie without any real thought or plan. Without either of us realizing, we
became a couple. That's when we had some trouble, though.

	He had just finished screwing me when he started sucking on my left
nipple. "What are doing that for?" I asked. We both needed some rest.
"Just trying to make them grow," he said playfully.  I pushed him away.  "I
don't WANT them to grow!" I was angry for some reason.  "Oh, come on. How
much longer do you think it will be before you start to look like a
woman. What difference will it make then?"  I didn't really hear much after
that. He was right. What had I been thinking! Did I think I could hide my
condition forever? I was going to look like the female I was very
soon. Then I'd have to start living as a woman. I panicked.  "Oh, no!
You're right! What am I going to do!"

He kissed me on the cheek and said,"You're going to become the prettiest
lady I know, and I'm going to be with you all the way." He said gently. He
put his hand on my belly.  "You have a womb now. Ovaries, too. Sooner or
later you'll have to face all that implies. I've been meaning to say
something. After you have your next period, I want you to go on the
pill. OK?"  Periods? Pills? Ovaries? It was all so overwhelming. When had I
become a woman to him. Maybe after he fucked me. Right? I just agreed
numbly. I had my period a few days later. Mom had gotten me pads and such,
then she took me to her (our?) gynecologist for an exam and birth control
pills. She knew about me and Carl somehow.

Carl seemed to enjoy our lovemaking more without a rubber. I did, too. It
was about then that he started to encourage me to wear female clothes. I
resisted, though my nipples were starting to enlarge and my now longish
blond hair had an inch of dark brown roots showing. As a kind of compromise
I started shaving my legs and had my hair dyed to match my roots. I also
had a perm to give it some body but I wore it pulled back in what I thought
was a masculine ponytail. Smooth legs felt funny in my jeans, but real good
wrapped around Carl's back. Over the next few weeks my complexion acquired
a darker tone and my eyes turned brown, and slightly almond-shaped. Later
on my pubic hair fell out and was replaced by black, nappy curls. I could
tell muscle was turning to fat as my own estrogen did its insidious work,
altering my body; altering my brain. My nipples began to bulge while my
pecs turned to jiggly flesh. This was more than I could handle right now. I
wore an ACE bandage around my chest and bought new clothes to hide my
softening physique, though I seemed to prefer brighter colors and softer
fabrics than I used to. People were starting to think I was some 'sweet
boy', you know, some queen. Gay men hit on me sometimes. It was
weird. Women began confiding in me in that way they do around gay men. I
wasn't sure if I was a spy or not. Regardless, I wasn't being perceived as
a 'real man' anymore and that bothered me more than I thought it would. I
stopped shaving my legs and tried wearing a fake mustache. When Carl saw me
he actually laughed. I began to feel angry but, all of a sudden, got all
weepy. I didn't like Carl to laugh at me.


Chapter 3:

	He lifted my chin and kissed me on the cheek. He said he wanted me
to spend a month with him at his parent's house on the lake. "I want you to
start living as my, uh, girlfriend," he said pleadingly. "This will be a
good time to start. Don't you think?" He lightly touched my strapped down
bosom. I couldn't refuse him anything. Beside, he was right. I couldn't
hide my changes much longer, so I agreed.

	The lake house was large and very plush. He called it a log cabin
but it was one of those ornate Adirondacks style log cabins. He asked me if
I trusted him. I said I did. He said he wanted me to spend the next month
naked, except for high heels and make-up, so I could get used to seeing
myself as a female. He planned to fix me rich, gourmet meals and 'put some
shape' on me. My estrogen soaked brain was already so passive and agreeable
that I went along with the plan. I undressed, slipped on my first pair of
high heels ........ and fell on the floor. We both had a good laugh. We sat
by the fire that evening sipping champagne and him feeding me cheese
cake. I liked this, too much I feared. We made love by the fire. My mother
had had our gynecologist give me birth control pills with a high level of
hormones. Mom and Carl were both conspiring to make me into a real girly
girl. Breakfast was waffles. Lunch was a quiche and fine Chardonnay, dinner
was duck l'orange. After only a few days I was starting to feel- plump. I
knew that when I left here I'd never be able wear men's clothes again,
because I would never FIT into men's clothes again.

	About a week of this I looked myself over. My hips were definitely
wider and my little boobies were starting to jiggle full time. I turned to
check out my behind. I was noticeably rounder there, too, but I still had a
looooong way to go. One thing I hadn't expected was a slight fleshy bulge
just under my arms. I knew what it was. My mom had them; all WOMEN had
them. I had grown a bra ridge already. I shouldn't have been surprised. I
knew perfectly well that my teeny-bopper titties weren't anywhere near full
size. Not by a long shot. I thought back to the last time I had seen Queen
Latifah. She still looked pretty good for a 56 year old grandmother, but
she had to be pushing 400 pounds! The Classical Music Craze had also
prompted some interest in jazz, so she did an album of jazz standards and
was enjoying a comeback. She was on the Britney Spears Show. Britney hadn't
had a hit in 20 years but she had made a comeback herself with this
afternoon talk show. She'd adopted the persona of the 'singing soccer
mom'. Her comeback album, HOTFLESH, was immediately dubbed by the critics
HOTFLASH, but it sold well none the less. Too bad she couldn't use her own
DNA, but it doesn't effect your age anyway.  She'd still be a middle-aged
woman in spandex pants and a belly shirt, except she'd probably look worse
seeing as she would be the PRE-liposuction/face lift Britney. But she was
still the little trouper that had dazzled them on the Mickey Mouse
Club. She sang, talked about her kids ( a lot) shared recipes and
advice. Between doing some of her old hits, which didn't look so good with
jiggly, cellulite dimpled thighs, and telling us about her kids, she found
an audience. (Why couldn't her kids have her committed like Cody Gifford
did to Kathy Lee) And of course, she was pregnant again- at 43 and telling
us about it like she was the first older woman to have a kid!

"... and so I said to my husband, "Is that a gun in your pocket or is the
Viagra finally working?"

[wild applause]

"And now, I'm proud to introduce one of my best friends, who I just met
today. Queen Latifah!"

[Latifah waddles out ponderously, to applause]

"It's great to be here, Britney. I'm happy to say I've become a grandmother
for the third time."

"Like wow! That's so awesome. And you, like, got your figure back already."
[audience laughs wildly]

[Latifah chuckles; bosom rippling like a water bed during sex]

"Yes. Looks like I got THREE women's figure back" [turns for the audience,
or should I say, orbits]

[audience laughs. Britney doesn't get it]

"Like, yeah. Well anyway. My 13 year old, Tiffany,[expects
applause. Doesn't get any] was like playing this Classical music. All day
long, Brahms, Beethoven, Bach. It was really loud, too. Who writes that
stuff! Then she switches from, like, Baroque, to Late Romantic and puts on
this Mahler dude. All day, Mahler! Mahler! Mahler! So I, like, lost it and
told her "Shut that noise off! I can barely hear myself think!" And she,
like, did. Wasn't that cool! I am such a MOM."

[audience applauds weakly. Latifah calls her an asshole and leaves]

	I noticed my legs and underarms had some stubble, so I lathered up
and got my razor. I was sitting on the edge of the bed with my legs crossed
when Carl came in and I blushed. I don't know why I was embarrassed. I was
only shaving my legs. It's not like I was masturbating or something. I
think it was being caught doing such a typically female thing that
embarrassed me. To be seen as a female, to show that I thought of myself as
female. Carl walked up to me. Kissed me on the cheek then got on his knees
in front of me. He placed his hands on my ass and started to lick and kiss
my labia. OOO that felt nice. He looked up into my eyes and motioned for
the razor. I gave it to him and he shaved me smooth as a ... well, as a
little girl. " Weren't many blond hairs left anyway," he said as he toweled
me off.  'Now let me look at you girl. Good. You finally have some booty.'
At that he slapped my butt, playfully, but it rippled!

	After two weeks I was nicely rounded, all over. I had hips, shapely
legs, a plump ass and B cup tits. At least they would be B cup if I wore a
bra. I was now big enough where I wished I had some support. It was
unsettling to feel my breasts bounce and sway with every movement, although
Carl liked it. It made me so aware of them. Of my growing femininity. Carl
had me sunbathing, too, so I was getting darker. I was just a light mocha
so far, but I was looking partly black now; somewhere between Jennifer
Beals and Halle Barry. My face had begun to resemble Queen Latifah. My eyes
were almond-shaped, my cheekbones were wider and my nose and lips had
changed a little. I didn't look like her yet, but I didn't look like me
either. I decided I wanted to be called a new name. I chose Pearl. Carl
thought that was a good idea and never called me Jamie again. I wasn't
Jamie anymore. I was Pearl.

	Funny, I didn't mind being naked in high heels and make-up
anymore. I was Carl's woman. That's what Carl wanted. It was nice to be
'taken care of' and controlled by a strong man. A few days before our
vacation was over I tried on my old clothes. My goodness. I could barely
squeeze my hips into my pants and my shirt buttons were stretched by my
new, heavy C-cup tits. I had also darkened to a lovely light cinnamon
color. My appearance was 'all girl' now and I needed some clothes. We had
some fun. I stood in my heels, with my hands on my hips while my loverman
measured me. With all the 'slap and tickle' going on it took nearly an
hour. I was now 5'10, 158 pounds, an increase of 5 inches and almost 50
pounds from my male body, and Carl had surely 'put some shape' on me. My
figure had expanded to 38C-26-40 with a protruding ass. Mom and Dad were in
for a surprise. That made me a size 14. Carl got me a dress and some plain
white 'matron' bra and panties. Wow. It was weird putting on a bra for the
first time. I actually needed one. This wasn't a costume or something. I
couldn't just take off my boobs and go back to being Jim. These hooters
were all me. I'd be wearing these things for the rest of my life. The
panties looked like a parachute but I was shocked to see that they fit!
Snugly! That's when I understood .......... I was becoming a big
woman. Thirty years from now it would be me who was the 400 pound
grandmother, as wide as I was tall, with tits the size of bean bag
chairs. Surprisingly, it didn't bother me. I put my hands on my fleshy hips
and looked down at softening tummy. My new womanly figure agreed with me-
and Carl certainly liked it. The dress didn't look too bad and it was the
first clothes I had worn in a month. We went to mall and I got a basic
wardrobe. I thought wearing pants and a sweater would make me look less
girly. I was wrong. My bosom and butt made anything I wore look girly. At
Carl's urging I got my ears pierced and he got me earrings and a
necklace. Pearls, of course. After the mandatory trip to the make-up
counter, I finished my transition to Pearl Carver by getting a purse. Now
THAT felt girly.

	When we got home my mom was shocked by how much I had changed. My
Dad said 'I looked nice' at Mom's urging, then he went 'to the club'. I
kissed Carl goodbye and went down to my room. I had slept with him for a
solid month. The bed felt too big ........ empty. Oh, no. I was really in
love- with a man.

Chapter 4:

	I was starting to turn into a woman mentally as well as
physically. I liked shopping with my mother, and watching soap operas. I
quit work at the video store, too. Carl decided to work in his family's car
dealership. He had worked there before but being the owner's son made him
uncomfortable. But those were summer jobs, now he was working in
management. He asked me if I wanted a job in the office. I agreed and
joined 'the girls' filling out credit applications and registering cars. As
the 'new girl' (they had no idea how new) I was responsible for the coffee
room. I made the coffee and bought the donuts every day. It had an
effect. I would buy a dress that fit loosely and by two weeks it was snug,
and after a month I was splitting seams on it. My butt widened steadily and
my bosom pushed out further and further. The differences between me and the
real Queen Latifah were obvious. Where she was an 'apple' shaped woman, I
had an hour glass figure which is another way of saying my butt was a lot
bigger than hers. Three months after I started the new job I could feel the
cheeks of my bubble butt swaying in counter-point to my immense DD cup
breasts when I walked to get my third or fourth donut. I knew I was gaining
weight, but Carl seemed to love it. We went out to dinner several times a
week and he always encouraged me to indulge, in spite of my obvious
expansion, and he was sexing me more passionately all the time. I had
learned to give him blowjobs and we often had 'nooners', too. I was great
when we would sneak into a store room and I would hike up my skirt and he
would fuck me royally right on a desk. I was learning what a fat ass could
be good for. I barely noticed we were doing it on a hard desk. As they say,
"The Bigger the cushion, the sweeter the pushin'". Being a good girl, I'd
lick him clean before he went back to his office. I hated my period but it
was welcome news that I wasn't a mama- yet anyway. But I was changing. My
complexion had darkened to a beautiful, smooth medium cinnamon- all over. I
walked differently, I stood differently. I had the stiff legged gait of all
women in high heels and my hips swayed constantly. I was taller than my
mother and almost as big as my father. Mom began to hassle me about my
weight. She didn't mind me becoming a woman, or black, but she didn't like
the idea of me not having a perfect figure. Well, Carl thought it was
perfect, so I ignored her....... but not for long. The other day when I got
out of the shower, I gasped when I saw what I had become. When had my
breasts become so heavy, so pendulous? My back was sore and it was only
2pm. I placed my hands on my back to brace it. The backaches were becoming
worse and more frequent. I couldn't deny it any longer. I needed to get
fitted for a good, support bra before these udders were dragging on the
floor. I turned to look behind me and my ass cheeks made a loud slapping
sound as they bumped against the sides of the shower. I rushed to the
bathroom scale. 188 POUNDS!! What had I done to myself! I was a hippo! I
wrapped my bulging brown body in a robe and began looking for a good lady's
foundation shop. I needed to get this blubber restrained before I hurt
somebody. I got dressed and went to the nearest place I could find.

	The sales lady at 'REAL WOMAN' was an older woman almost my size,
though slightly bigger. She measured me very carefully in the bust, waist
and hips, but also my thighs and upper arms. She would look, tsk and write
down another number then move on the next one. "It's you young girls who
are the hardest to fit. You refuse to accept you're that can't fit into
that flimsy 'Victoria's Secret' junk until it's almost too late. You've got
stretch marks on your breasts already. Did you know that?" I shook my
head. "I didn't think so. So you need support. So what. You're woman." She
eventually fit me for a new 46DD support bra with 6 hooks! I bought
three. I told her about my date tonight and she suggested a full body
shaper. It was a virtually a spandex suit that started as a bra and
extended down as a full panty girdle with long legs to restrain my chubby
thighs. It was very uncomfortable but it made me look firmer than I had
looked in months. I also got a few pairs of stockings to go with it since I
couldn't wear pantyhose with it on. I decided to wear it and get used to
it. The body shaper held me in but it changed how I looked and how I felt
about myself. All my life I had been quick and agile, like a rabbit. Not
anymore. I felt heavy, wide, flabby.... large. I was sticking out in places
where I didn't even have places a few months ago. And so mature. I sensed a
schism between me and the young people who frequent every mall. I wasn't a
kid anymore. I was a full- grown woman wearing grandma underwear because
nothing else fits and I badly need the support. I hefted my tremendous
bosom and watched it sway and ripple as it fell back down. I was 'all
woman' now.... and I was a fat woman. Yet I was only 25. I was sentenced to
this spandex prison for the next 50 years! I strolled over to LANE BRYANT
to find a new dress for tonight. I looked around at all the large women,
OTHER large women, in the store and sighed. I'd be shopping here for the
rest of my life. I wasn't feeling very confident. I ended up buying a loose
dress that was one step away from a mumu.

I was still down when Carl came for me. As usual he ordered a lot for me
and encouraged me to indulge. I resisted this time.

"Carl, I can't eat all that. Look at me. I've gotten so fat. These big
pillowy thighs that you say feel so good wrapped around you would be
rubbing together if not for a lot of spandex, baby."

	He just smiled a secret smile.  "I know, Pearl. I don't want to
marry some skinny, white boy."

I almost missed that. MARRY! He was holding an engagement ring. I forgot
all about my weight as I started to cry and said 'yes' over and over.





Chap.5

	Being engaged to Carl was wonderful but it underscored a deep
seated unease that had been building for months now. I was happy and
content when I was with him but when I was alone that feeling a being a
visitor to my own life returned. Was it because I was a woman now?
No. Truth be known, I liked it. Thinking about that horse dick of his made
me all squishy. Was it because I was black? The world was still full of
racist pinheads, but there were no segregation laws anymore. There were
lots of black role models in all areas. Back in the 20th Century it may
have been a problem, but not now. I knew what it was. The last big bigotry
left. I was fat. I was a fat woman and it was still OK for people to point
that out and tease you. Wanda, at work, had always been hot for Carl though
he never was interested in her. She was very jealous of me and Carl and was
the worst for taunting me about my weight. Once someone asked her to get a
file and she said, "Do I have to? It's way on the other side of Pearl."
Another time I heard her mention how Carl wanted to 'put some shape on me'
but was the shape he had in mind a sphere? And so on. I tried to ignore it,
but the others would laugh along with her. That made me cry sometimes.

All my life I had been almost too thin. I never considered what it was like
to be fat, nor considered the possibility of ever being fat, but here I
was.... fat..... huge....... big as a house! And getting BIGGER every
day. I threw myself on my bed and had a good cry.... lying on my side, of
course. Lying on my stomach, as I used to do, hadn't been possible for
months, and I doubted it ever would be again. I rolled onto my other side,
my breasts flopping, first one then the other, like great bags of jelly.

	After I had a good cry I went shopping. How clich is that. I
went to Lane Bryant because they had the biggest selection in my
size. Everything was nice but nothing was really exciting. I wanted
something hot to wear. Damn. I wanted to be hot. But how could I now. I was
a fat lady. I must have looked pathetic because a very elegantly dressed
woman came up to me.  "New at this, dear?" she asked kindly.  "New?"  "You
know. Wearing plus sizes."  "Yes," I said. "The weight
happened... suddenly."

	She began to give me a pep talk about how I shouldn't let arbitrary
standards effect my happiness. If I was OK with it and my fiancee was OK
with it, why let anyone else interfere.  "You are queen-sized, my dear. Act
in a regal manner. You are the classic ideal of feminine beauty so don't
apologize as most women of size do. Flaunt your womanly charms. Revel in
your lush curves. Your young man must like what he sees. He asked to spend
your life with him."

	She was right. I had a great figure, albeit a large one. I seemed
to walk a little taller that day. I bought a new dress all right. It fit
like skin, had a plunging neck line and a slit up the skirt. Yes, it was
sexy and why not. I had the figure for it. I wasn't some skinny little
girl. I was a woman.

	A few days later Carl took me to dinner and he obviously liked my
new dress. As usual, he was encouraging me to have a rich dessert. I
resisted only slightly.

"You're the boss, baby. I'll eat like a good girl, but I have to warn
you. You're engaged to a 206 pound woman."

I could see him squirming from the raging boner I had just given him.

**
	I wanted tonight to be special. I was dressed in very skimpy
panties of red lace, a matching bra and red high heels. Since I learned to
like being a fat lady I was dressing a lot more provocatively. I looked out
my window and saw Carl's car. I went to answer the door dressed this way
and opened it wide. A gift for my fiancee........

..........I don't why I was surprised that a Jehovah's Witness would have
the same kind of car as Carl. I must have scared him. The walk was strewn
with pamphlets.

	I decided to stop taking birth control pills and got fitted for a
diaphragm. I wondered if the loss of hormones would effect me. It did. My
ovaries started producing more estrogen on their own and I actually gained
weight. I surrendered. Obviously, I was destined to be fat. I decided to
spend a few weeks with Carl's grandmother to learn how to cook. I had been
avoiding it because I just knew it would be a 'broadening' experience.

	Grandma Wheeler was a lovely woman who loved to cook and eat, as
evidenced by her 400 pound figure. She taught me how to make all kinds of
rich, country dishes. She also insisted I eat what I made. Carl's mother
had avoided this for 25 years and Grandma Wheeler was determined to make up
for her daughter-in-law's evasion. I would be the one to carry on the
traditional family recipes. Looking at Grandma Wheeler I had a glimpse of
my future... and I liked it. In addition to cooking she, of necessity,
taught me how to let out a dress. Carl came to see me every weekend and
seemed more and more pleased with me. I returned from my weeks at Grandma
Wheeler's farm a 300+ pound mountain of lush womanhood......... and
pregnant.


	I was showing a little in my wedding gown but no one seemed to
care. We spent our honeymoon on a cruise ship and I, shall we say, enjoyed
the cuisine. Carl bought us his dream house and settled down as a happily
married housewife. Keisha was born soon after and I loved breast feeding my
baby daughter. I certainly had enough for her.

	Visiting Carl at work didn't make me uncomfortable. Nobody teased
me anymore. I was no longer the chunky girlfriend of the owner's son. I was
the general manager's big, fat wife, and mother of the owner's
grandchild. We were all very happy.

The End