It wasn’t long before Claire’s day was over—a foggy Monday in Autumn that should have been filled with education and socialization with friends that had instead been packed to the brim in fantastic meals.
Monday became Tuesday, then Wednesday, then Saturday as her hours slowly began to drift into one another. Days became weeks, which crept by ever so slowly. Mrs. White made sure that her daughter was kept full and happy, providing her with glorious meals at any given time of the day. As her appetite increased, so too did the portions as well as her nap times. While somewhat apprehensive at first, Claire was beginning to enjoy this whole home-school thing. She could wake up whenever she wanted (seeming to get progressively later and later in the morning as time wore on), she didn’t have to deal with those oh-so-undesirable jerks at school, could text her friends all day long, and she hadn’t done a lick of schoolwork in weeks! She should have been homeschooled from the start!
And so as four weeks passed, Claire growing ever more content with her new way of life at every passing day, young Miss White was now a full month out of traditional schooling, a month further from a “typical” social life of an eighteen year old girl, and a month far fatter than she had been.
She rose at noon, though her alarm had been set for nine. With bleary blue eyes she stared hollowly into her darkened chambers as the spoiled teen slowly came into the waking world. Taking a whole two minutes to muster up the strength to peel out from under the covers, Claire poured herself out of bed and onto the fuzzy pink rug. Her chubby little toes clenched as she arched her back, holding her arms high into the air as she greeted the afternoon with a song of salutations
“Ahhhh…” her yawn was pitifully lazy, and as she lowered her arms so the rest of her fell too.
A white tee squeezed her thickened form, having ridden up on her now prominent pot-belly in the midst of her morning routine. Two chubby lovehandles stuck out from either side as they spilled over the waistband of her pants, the paling flesh of her stomach leading their battle of the bulge in front as it flexed and smiled with her every movement.
Innocently she brought one hand down to scratch the pampered middle, taking time afterwards to tug at the hem of her too-tight pajama bottoms. Fuzzy pink ones that, at one time, were so comfortable that Claire had worn them whenever possible—the perfect pair of plaid pajamas!—but now were so tight that they hugged every spare inch of Claire White’s thunderous thighs. No doubt all that time on the couch was the cause of such a punctual posterior, quickly becoming her most prominent asset.
“Mmm…” she grunted as her stomach grumbled, her eyes barely open as her body flew itself down to the kitchen on autopilot—not taking the time to sheath her supple shape completely as she sat herself at the table, blindly awaiting the most important meal of the day...
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.15 seconds at 5:49pm on Nov 28, 2024 via server WEBX2.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
