First part of upcoming novel? - Life Of Chloe #FMG

[Gertos]

Excellent--can't wait for more!

[Gertos]

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[lurker1000]

You're a great writer, please keep going. Some sensuality would be greatly appreciated, perhaps she can find a smaller guy

[Mesut88]

Thanks so much for the feedback, and Happy New Year to all of you—just in case I don't post another chapter tomorrow. As for the sensuality, it'll probably happen soon. While it's been fun focusing almost entirely on Chloe, I guess it's time to start bringing in more characters to the story.

18.  Popcorn and a Tall Lad

The lecture felt endless. My head bobbed forward, and I jerked upright again, blinking rapidly to stay awake. Just like the past few weeks, keeping up with the class had been a losing battle. No matter how much I tried to focus, the words blurred together, my professor's voice fading into the background.

I yawned, my jaw cracking loudly enough that I got a quick glance from Ellie. She didn't say anything, though—she never did. Not about my tiredness. Not about the bags under my eyes. She just nudged me lightly when the lecture finally ended, motioning for me to follow her to lunch.

The walk across campus felt like a dream I couldn't quite wake up from. Ellie chatted away, her voice a soft hum in the chilly air. I barely registered the words, nodding when it seemed like I should or grunting out some vague response when she paused. My head was so foggy that I could barely string my thoughts together. My legs carried me automatically, the smell of food snapping me out of my haze as we entered the cafeteria.

Ellie grabbed her tray, scanning the tables for an empty spot. I shuffled after her, cradling the Tupperware with my usual beans and toast. Preparing it in the morning had felt like a chore, but it was routine now. Two slices of toast topped with baked beans, perfectly measured out. I still couldn't eat cafeteria food—not with my diet—but Ellie didn't seem to mind. She dropped into a seat by the window, and I slid into the chair opposite her.

For the first few minutes, it was the usual back-and-forth: Ellie talking, me occasionally grunting something that could pass as a reply. I was halfway through my beans on toast, forcing each bite down, when Ellie's tone shifted.

"Anyway," she said casually, setting her fork down, "I met my brother's mate yesterday. Peter."

I blinked, not really processing. This was going to be yet another story I'd have a hard time following. My attention drifted for a moment, but Ellie's next words yanked me back.

"Right, you aren't seeing anyone at the moment?"

I froze, the bite of toast and beans sticking in my throat. It took a second to swallow, the food scraping uncomfortably on its way down. Seeing anyone? I'm nineteen years old and a virgin. I haven't even kissed anyone, I thought, heat rising to my cheeks.

I managed to stammer out a no, but Ellie barely paused before continuing. "You know, Peter's a great lad. He's been single for ages, and my brother was joking the other day that I should set him up with one of my mates. At first, I thought it was just a dumb idea, but then I thought about you."

She smiled, like she was proud of herself for connecting the dots. "You're so quiet, and Peter never shuts up. I don't know, I just thought... opposites attract, right? You two might actually work."

A date? My stomach twisted. I stared down at my Tupperware, the bread softening under the beans. A part of me wanted to laugh—me? A date? With my full-on obsession with getting big and strong, I hadn't even thought about boys in ages. What would that Peter guy think of someone like me? Probably not much.

Sunday afternoon felt like it arrived in a blur, and I found myself nervously heading toward the cinema to meet Peter. After saying yes to Ellie's offer and letting her set up the date, I'd been hit with an overwhelming wave of panic.
What was I supposed to wear? What should I do with my hair? Should I try makeup? I didn't own any, let alone know how to apply it. The questions swirled in my head, leaving me frozen. In a moment of desperation, I had asked Ellie for help. She had lit up like I'd handed her the most exciting project of the year.

"You know I used to work at my mum's salon, right?" she'd said, already pulling her phone out to make arrangements. Not long after, I was sitting in a chair at her mum's hair salon, Ellie working with practiced ease.

She'd suggested a "long bob cut," explaining it was chic but low-maintenance. When she spun the chair around to face the mirror, I barely recognized myself. My hair now grazed just above my shoulders, framing my face in a way I hadn't expected. "You look great," Ellie said with a satisfied smile. It felt good hearing her say that, even if I wasn't sure I entirely believed it.

The haircut gave me some confidence, but my wardrobe was still a mess. The thought of showing up in my usual oversized sweaters and ill-fitting pants made me cringe. So, after my Saturday morning workout and grocery run, I skipped my usual gaming session with Molly to face the daunting task of finding something—anything—suitable to wear for a date.

I had several problems. Firstly, I didn't have a lot of money to spend. Eating 4,500 calories daily was seriously draining my bank account, even though I didn't party or do anything else most students spent their money on. Secondly, I'd measured myself before heading out to shop, and the numbers weren't promising. My quads were about 26 inches around, while my waist was just under 31 inches. Finding jeans that fit my lower body—especially at a flea market—seemed nearly impossible. And thirdly, I wasn't sure whether I should try to cover my build or not. Ellie had described Peter as chubby and funny, which sounded nice to me, but I wasn't sure if someone like him would like broad shoulders and thick thighs.

The flea market I went to was huge, which gave me a small glimmer of hope. Rack after rack, I sifted through options. One pair after another went into the "no" pile: "These wouldn't even fit over my calves" or "These would fit someone with a torso twice as thick as mine." My patience was wearing thin when, suddenly, I spotted a pair of jeans that looked different.

They were blue, high-waisted, and made of stretchy material. I slipped into them, and for once, they actually fit. They weren't as baggy as the ones I wore to school every day, but they hugged my quads and hips in a way that looked—good. Turning in front of the mirror, I couldn't help but notice how thick and strong my legs and glutes looked. It felt... nice.

Buoyed by that small win, I decided to find a top to go with them. A white, rather fitted t-shirt caught my eye. It stretched snugly across my broad shoulders and thick upper body, and instead of feeling self-conscious, I felt big in a good way. To balance things out and make my build less obvious, I picked out a large, white shirt to wear over it. I could tie it at the waist to look less chubby, showing my surprisingly narrow waist—at least compared to the rest of my body.

I completed my shopping day, which ended up being way too expensive for me, by buying a few things for the first time in my life—a proper, nice set of underwear and a handful of makeup items I'd decided were the most essential after binge-watching far too many TikTok tutorials.

When I finally stepped through the cinema's front doors on Sunday afternoon, I felt far more uncertain than I had done yesterday while shopping on this very same street. Beneath my thick glasses was a touch of eye makeup, and I hoped the other products I'd carefully applied hadn't melted off during my walk. I was wearing all my new clothes, plus a winter jacket, and I felt exactly like a 165 cm, nearly 82-kilogram person would after a two-mile walk: sweaty and slightly out of breath.

Just as I managed to steady my breathing, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and saw Peter for the first time.

He wasn't what I'd call handsome. Standing about 190 cm, he was chubby, with a ruddy complexion and a shaved head that caught the light. He had braces, and, to my surprise, had decided to wear a Newcastle United jersey on our date. But he smiled warmly, his expression open and genuine. He looked pleased to meet me, and that... felt really nice.

Peter stood just a little too close, an awkward but warm smile spreading across his face. He tapped me lightly on the shoulder. "Chloe?"

"Yeah," I said, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

His grin widened, and he let out a small laugh. "Good. For a second, I thought I might've tapped the wrong person. That would've been embarrassing."

I managed a faint smile, tugging my jacket tighter around me.



Peter gestured toward the ticket counter. "Should we head in?"

I nodded, suddenly too aware of how warm my face felt. We walked together, Peter chatting the entire time. He talked about the last movie he saw, about how his brother thought this one was overrated, and how he'd been meaning to see it for weeks but hadn't had the chance.

I didn't say much. I didn't need to. His easygoing nature filled the silences without making them awkward, and I found myself relaxing just a little.

"Want any popcorn or drinks?" he asked as we approached the concession stand.

I hesitated. My brain instantly calculated the calories. Even though I had came to conclusion that with the amount of calories I ate daily, a popcorn and soda wouldn't hurt at all. 



"Yes, please," I said, surprising myself.

I smiled faintly, following him as he ordered. He got a large popcorn and two Cokes, handing one to me without hesitation.

Inside the cinema, he picked seats near the middle. "Best view," he said, sinking into the plush chair like he owned the place.

I sat more carefully, balancing the soda in one hand and the popcorn in the other. The chair felt too small for my frame, the armrests pressing into my sides, but I ignored it, focusing instead on the warm, buttery scent of the popcorn.

The lights dimmed, and the movie began. Peter leaned slightly toward me, his voice a whisper. "Do you think this'll live up to the hype?"

I shrugged, stuffing a handful of popcorn into my mouth. It was salty, buttery, and so much better than the canned tuna I'd eaten in a bathroom stall earlier that week.

Halfway through the movie, I realized I was actually enjoying myself. Peter's occasional whispers—snarky comments about the plot or exaggerated reactions to jump scares—made me laugh. Not loudly, but enough to feel the tension in my chest ease. At one point, our arms brushed as he reached for the popcorn. I glanced down, noticing how much broader my shoulder was compared to his.

The thought nagged at me for a moment, but I brushed it aside. This was fine. Better than fine.

When the credits rolled, Peter stretched his arms over his head, yawning dramatically. "Okay, I'll admit it. That was pretty good."

"Better than I expected," I agreed, taking a sip of my Coke.

We walked out into the chilly night, the crisp air hitting my face and making me feel oddly alert. Peter kept talking, telling me about some other movie he'd seen recently and how it wasn't half as good. I listened, nodding along as we made our way down the street.

At the corner where we were supposed to part ways, Peter slowed. He scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

"So, uh, I had a really good time tonight," he said.

"Me too," I replied, surprised at how easy the words came.

Peter hesitated, his gaze flicking to mine and then away again. "Can I...?"

I realized what he was asking a second too late. He leaned in, his movements tentative, giving me plenty of time to pull back if I wanted to. But I didn't.

His lips met mine, soft and slightly dry. The kiss was quick at first, almost shy. Then he leaned in a little more, his hand brushing against my arm before resting lightly on my shoulder.

I froze as his hand slid downward, over my chest. The moment his fingers made contact with the firm curve of my pectoral muscle, he jerked back like he'd touched a live wire. His eyes widened, darting between my face and where his hand had been.


"Shit," I thought, "he was expecting a soft breast, not a hard chest that can bench more than 100 kilos." Peter's eyes were wide, his expression frozen somewhere between confusion and... something else. I couldn't tell if it was surprise, embarrassment, or disappointment. "I've ruined our nice date with these stupid muscles," the thought echoed in my mind, heavy and unforgiving.

"I should head home," Peter stammered, his voice quieter than before. He took a step back, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "But I'll give you a call another day, right? Have a nice evening," he added quickly before turning on his heel and walking away at a pace that felt too fast to be casual.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, the chill in the air finally seeping through my jacket. My lips still tingled from the kiss, but my chest felt strangely hollow.

For a second, I considered calling after him, saying something to make the awkwardness go away, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I just watched as his figure disappeared into the distance, the streetlights catching the shine of his bald head.

I started walking home, the sound of my boots on the pavement oddly grounding. It wasn't the perfect first kiss. Not even close. But it had happened. At 19 years of age, I'd kissed someone. That was something, wasn't it?

[jeffbeans]

Mesut88, I've just read this in one go it's AMAZING. I love slow burn realistic transformation stories and this one is exceptionally well written as all your stories are.

I hope we get more chapters soon