“Hey, fatass, catch!”
Jason felt the wind knocked out of him and barely resisted farting with the sudden pressure against his soft, large stomach. He almost barfed as well.
Looking up through his glasses at the swirls and stars in his vision, he resisted tears. “Ha, you got me, Tim.” His answer had coughs around it, which made Tim stagger back and mutter something under his breath. Every day. This was every single day.
At first, a long time ago, he thought Tim wanted to be his friend. He didn’t have a lot of those in high school. A Chinese transfer student who was overzealously friendly and a deep-voiced, gay kid in the drama club were the only reliable ones. They were his friends, mainly because they actually thought it was a good idea to stop by his house to do class work and sometimes watch something or play a video game. Tim would talk to him in History but also snap and berate him. Jason constantly figured he did something wrong, so he tried to make a habit of giving him stuff or doing things that might cheer him up. It didn’t work.
Tim’s favorite things were interrupting him when he was working and bringing up stuff, like when his younger brother was visiting the school and Jason tripped on some grass and his crack got exposed. Tim told him that his brother got cancer and died from “seeing too much ass”. Jason wasn’t especially gullible, but he tended to take people at his word, so when he showed genuine concern about his brother, Tim laughed in his face.
He threw things at him, with bruises to show. Jason tried to imagine that this was just the way Tim was, and it was still okay. But Tim always showed up in his favorite classes to make them Hell. He was strategic about his torment, always finding ways to couch it with a confident smile while Jason himself covered for him. It was so much. It was too much. He had always been a big guy, but, for a time last year, he did his best to lose weight by walking around the neighborhood and skipping some meals at home. His parents were a bad influence, encouraging him to eat everything on his plate and having very established notions about portions.
All told, it didn’t really put a dent in things, and he soon slid back. This day, he happened to wear a cream-peach-colored blazer he thought looked pretty cool, but Tim just relentlessly scoffed that it was “faggy”. Halfway through the class, Jason just couldn’t stand it, and, holding back his emotions as Tim made fart noises with his every step, he asked the teacher for a restroom pass.
This teacher thought Jason was actually screwing around, and Tim and Jason were thick as thieves. But he eventually relented and let Jason go. He walked slowly past the wide, old classrooms. Exhaustion shook his body with soul-sapping stress. His eyes glossed with tears.
The nearest bathroom was around the corner, but if he went there, then he’d just get back to class sooner. Instead of that, he followed the main open area over to the other end of campus. He remembered that one of the really good bathrooms had been vandalized, and the custodians closed it up for a few days to fix it. He crossed his fingers, and the repairs were done. A comfortable place to rest for a few minutes, untouched.
The door was open, which was a promising sign. The inside smelled harshly of all sorts of cleaners. He rubbed his eyes, and they finally felt dry. Plodding through the bathroom hallway, he quietly surveyed all the new equipment. It looked good; it looked better than most of the stuff around campus. Hand dryers that didn’t look like they’d been around since the 1980s. Modern sinks with infrared sensors. Soap actually refilled in the dispensers. Practically the closest to heaven you could get in high school.
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Walking over to the large stall at the end, Jason took a long breath of the fresh aroma and slipped over to the seat. Often times, it felt like he had too much ass to comfortably position himself on these, but this one felt just right. It seemed to cup and contain his behind in a way that didn’t hurt or anything. Bending forward, he found the position to be surprisingly easy to hold. Usually, his rolls of flesh fought back with sweaty tension, but it was like they weren’t even there.
He let out a squeak of gas, like opening the lip of a balloon. It soon turned to echoing, roaring notes. Shy embarrassment about how loud he was soon fell away with the comfort of relief. Messy sounds soon followed, but there was no sense that he was filling the bowl.
Still, he felt oddly lighter and liberated. The presence he left against the seat still felt soft and rounded, but much narrower than a few minutes ago. In his front, he felt concerned that his dick was buried or tucked up somewhere in his fat folds because of how it felt streaming piss from his body. Before he could really think about it, though, he automatically grabbed some toilet paper and dabbed a strange patch of his flesh with sensitive folds of skin.
Finishing up in there, he puzzled over the fact that it felt like he left half of his clothes behind. Instead of his 3XL cotton pants, he discovered a pink and blue plaid skirt. It looked much too small for him, but somehow it fit perfectly when he pulled it up. His immediate worry was that Tim would make even worse fun of him for wearing a skirt to school. Slowly, though, that tension ebbed away, and Jason posed in the mirror.
He had a supple, pert, rounded ass, much smaller and delightfully hinted at by the skirt. Flipping it up, she inspected her curvy but tight shape with a knee tilted. Her peach blazer shifted and receded into a fashionable pink tank top. Her arms and waist were soft and full of gentle touches of girlish fat. Her tits in that top—she just upgraded to specialty E-cups—practically earned a glare from every security guard on campus.
She read the dress code rule book, though, and she wasn’t in violation by the barest of margins. She couldn’t help she was a big girl with monumental boobies and cleavage to follow. Even with a few layers, it was easy to look positively scandalous.
Everything about her was so deliciously thick, and she knew it. No matter what she wore, there were always eyeballs trailing after. After washing her hands and checking herself out again in the mirror, she pranced her way back to class.
Finding her seat, she leaned towards Tim and playfully dropped a pen in his lap. He shuttered and gulped before softly speaking, “Oh, hey Courtney. Back already?”
Courtney flared a coy smile across her lips as she bent closer to her prey. It was so much fun to tease little Tim. On the first day of high school, he asked her out, but she left him hanging. Every so often, she played with him like a fish stuck on a line, just dragging him along obediently. Such a simp.
Yet, oddly enough, she had this sneaking suspicion, which practically everyone else in class shared, that he actually had the hots for the big buff quarterback on the senior varsity team. His name was Max and he actually asked her out too. She wondered what kind of fun she could have with the both of them wrapped around her fingers.