Letting Go

Deb continued to grow over the months and several years, as did most of her office workers, and to a lesser degree, Nate’s mom. Barely 4 years since she’d ended her father’s life, she weighed in at well over a quarter ton: over 600 pounds, actually. Her breasts were legendary around town and everywhere else she went. Words such as “massive” or “huge” or even “gigantic” didn’t begin to sufficiently describe their size. They were so many times larger than her head that it wasn’t even funny. Heck, each areola was bigger than her head—or at least a two-dimensional section thereof.

She remained mobile, but didn’t like to walk far, and short of a life-or-death emergency couldn’t and wouldn’t walk fast. Nate had trouble breathing when she lay atop him, though if she laid down upon him slowly and gently, he could manage for a few minutes as they each enjoyed the sensations of her fat body wholly surrounding him down to his knees, with plenty of flesh to spare on both sides. She learned to be comfortable sleeping atop one or the other of her own breasts, depending which way she was facing. He alternated between using one or sometimes both of her breasts and her belly and occasionally her buns as wonderful pillows.

At Nevin Associates, most people’s gains plateaued, other than Deb’s and Ryan’s, though even each of theirs was slowing. A retirement in upper management led to Ryan being promoted to vice president of customer service. He knew exactly who he wanted to move into the position of C.S. supervisor, and not just because of their shared joy of food and fatness: Deb had long been the model C.S. rep, and had been running training and refresher courses for months now.

Deb felt genuinely grateful for the promotion, which gave her and Nate the confidence to find a smallish single-story 2 bedroom house with wide, open doorways and a large bathroom and kitchen, which they could afford.

Cuddling close on the well-used breaking-down couch at Deb’s apartment the day of the promotion announcement, Deb was showing her Love some photos from the day’s celebration.

He nuzzled deeper into her vast softness, “I’m so proud of you.”

She clunked her head over against him. “Never would’ve made it without my Daddy. Here’s the group shot of our team—at least those of us working today.”

The group photo of smiling co-workers standing squished against each other looking more like a party photo very much got his attention. “You’re all fat now, and not just by a little bit!”

“We are” she smiled.

“Even Laura! She used to be a rail, and now she’s outright fat, with a big soft-looking belly tire easing into an apron!”

“Oh, you’ll love this: she’s intentionally gained that much. Wanna know why?”

“I’d imagine for the usual sex, comfort, and personal power reasons.”

“There may be some of that, but none of those are the main thing for her. She found that it was more soothing to squeeze her belly fat than using a stress ball. She shared that around the office, and now aided in part by my first official act as supervisor being allowing exposed bellies, all of us are using our bellies this way. At least those of us who still get stressed on calls.”

“Do you still take calls?”

“Sure: escalations, mostly. Hopefully there’ll be fewer of those as time goes on, allowing me to focus on other aspects of the position and improving life there.”

Most of her co-workers applauded Deb’s promotion, but not all of them did. A very few even acted out and performed worse at their jobs than they had before. One of those was her former work friend and long-ago BBW clubbing associate Nora Pyle.

Deb attempted to counsel her and guide her towards being a decent employee for several months, as well as having others work with her in case the issue was their past friendship or anything else related to her. After 3 months of making these efforts with no improvements in Nora’s rock-bottom performance, Deb had no choice but to act.

Nora found it a bit surreal going into Deb’s office. It seemed like another lifetime when they’d been snark buddies at the Get-Together, and misbehaving co-conspirators here at Nevin Associates’ customer service center. Unlike most people, Nora wasn’t staring at Deb’s absolutely massive mammaries lying atop her desk, spreading via gravity within her tasteful business blouse—she was staring at the fat(ter) face of the woman who used to be her casual friend and was now her supervisor.

“Sit down, please” Deb motioned towards the chair in front of her desk, unremarkable other than obviously capable of holding heavy people with wide bottoms in a reasonable fashion.

Nora did as she was told, breathing shallowly, trying not to fidget.

“Do you know why you’re here today?”

“Probably because I missed my goals for successful resolutions again, and because someone stole the soul of my friend Double D and replaced it with Ms. Dull Corporate Drone.”

Deb shifted, resting her forearms flat on the desk. Nora stared at the giant hams which were her upper arm fat deposits.

“Really? ‘Ms. Dull Corporate Drone’?”

“Yes! Don’t you remember the fun we used to have? Mr. Stuttertongue? Ms. Meganostrils? Bartholomew Blowhard?”

“Yeah” Deb smiled almost imperceptibly, “back when I was stupid.”

“Back when you were creative. What happened to you, Deb?”

“I grew up, just in time. I realized that there’s a time and place for fun, creativity, sarcasm, cynicism, snark, and so forth, and a time and place to work for a business which pays me for services I render. Usually we only give CS reps two warnings before canning them. I’ve given you three, knowing you can do the job if you want, hoping you’d have an epiphany like I did, regarding why you’re here and receiving a paycheck. That hasn’t happened, hence we’re in here at the point we are now.”

“Deb, listen to yourself! You’ve turned into a corporate mouthpiece! What do you do for your paycheck, other than sit on your ass and make it and your belly, thighs, arms, face, and especially your boobs fatter!”

“I help manage this call center, train reps, and take escalations, amongst other things! But I can’t blame you if you don’t get it—I didn’t used to get it, until I opened my eyes. I’d truly hoped the same for you… you could be a good CS rep., if you wanted. But not here… not any more.” She handed an envelope to Nora. “Here’s your termination package. I encourage you to read it here and now, in case you have any questions. Once you’re done, please clear your belongings out of the cubicle without disturbing our other reps.”

Nora grew wide-eyed and trembled. “You bitch!” With growing fire in her eyes, she stood up, leaning over the desk threateningly.

“Remember where you are” Deb prompted. “This isn’t a sleazy bar.”

Nora snapped. She spat onto Deb, hitting the largest target in her current position: her exposed cleavage.

Her timing could not have been worse: H.R. Director Pauline Prentiss entered the room at the exact moment Nora noisily spat. “Sorry I’m late” she said. “What just happened?”

“Ms. Pyle chose to express her disapproval with her termination via spitting on me.” Deb pointed to the foreign saliva on her chest(s).

Pauline felt ill at ease, seeing Nora’s threatening, crazed expression. “I’ll page Security.”

“Don’t bother” Deb replied as she lifted her huge body off her seat and stood up fully, staring at Nora. “Brian’s on his way over.” She wiped the spittle off her breasts, saying, “Ms. Pyle, I suggest you refrain from further acting out during your exit interview with yourself, Ms. Prentiss, and–”

Knock knock

“Come in, please. Oh, hi Brian! Just in time. Ms. Pyle is not taking her termination well, and apparently needs some encouragement and a civil role model.”

“Is it time?” he asked.

“Yes” Deb replied, with Pauline nodding.

“Encouragement” came in the form of Brian gently leading Nora out of Deb’s office and back to her desk to claim her personal belongings, then out the door. All along he strove to make it look less obvious that she was being escorted out under duress.

Again alone in her office, Deb let out a big sigh as memories of who she used to be and escapades with Nora flashed through her mind. It wasn’t wistfulness for good times long gone: it was regret over years wasted hindering rather than helping people on account of arrested personal development.

She mindlessly squeezed the front sides of her breasts as her mind turned towards her next performance review.