After the “crying our eyes out” phase ended, we entered the “obsessive activity” phase. Mine was hours on end of exercise – swimming, running, pull-ups, weight lifting, didn’t matter what. It kept my mind off what had happened. I was already in pretty good shape, but I put on another 20 pounds of pure beef. When I went in for my yearly medical check-up in January, my body fat percentage was 4.14 per cent. The doctor said that was the lowest he’d ever seen – it’s almost impossible for even a professional athlete to have a percentage under 5 per cent. The human body needs a certain amount of lipids in it to function properly.
Cinnamon’s obsession was with comfort food. She ate more ice cream in a month than I’d eaten my whole life. She also consumed large quantities of pizza, soda, cookies and Taco Bell. (When Dad was alive, she ate salads, steak and vegetables primarily and drank only water.) She had never been rail-thin (her frame had to support her large bust), but she put on about 100 pounds in 6 months. Now instead of being toned and busty, she had become full-on BBW. Soft, round ass, thick legs, plump belly, still had her big breasts.
And much to my surprise, with every pound she gained and every dress size she went up, the more I found myself being attracted to her sexually. Although looking back, none of the three girls I had dated in high school were the kind whose ribs you could count from across the street. They weren’t as massive as Cinnamon had become, but they were definitely somewhat “thick-framed”.
The question now was how to let her know that without sounding like a pervert. I couldn’t exactly go up to my stepmom and say, “Hey, baby doll, you’re hot as hell, want to get naked and fuck?” She’d have, rightly, slapped my face hard enough to knock me into next week and then Bobbittized me. I would have to be more subtle.
My chance came at the beginning of February. After lunch, Cinnamon settled on the sofa and suddenly started bawling again. I came over and sat next to her.
“What’s the matter?”
“Today would have been our anniversary. I really miss him, you know.”
“I miss him too.”
“Who’s going to want me now? I’m old and fat. Used up.”
“32 is not old! And you’re gorgeous.”
“You’re sweet to say that. But I’m not gorgeous. I’m a tub of lard. A depressed one.”
“Do I need to prove to you that you’re still attractive?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I wrapped my arms around Cinnamon and leaned over, resting my head on her chest. The thin fabric of her nightgown was the only thing intervening.
“It means I think you’re magnificently sexy.”
“You don’t actually mean that. I’m ugly and unwanted.”
I slid the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, freeing her large, soft breasts.
“Unwanted? Bull-fucking-shit. Let me show you just how wanted you are.”
I kissed her neck, gently. She made a sound I interpreted as pleasurable, so I teasingly traced my tongue up towards her ear, then nibbled softly on her earlobe. Cinnamon giggled and a smile appeared on her face.
“Where did you learn that?”