The Sedentary Secretary (Patreon)

For the longest while, you two never really interacted all that much. Differing departments & all that. That was until quarterly review day, back about a year ago at this point. Remember? That fake bomb threat Sanderson pulled only prolonging the inevitable? Not only did his firing elevate to criminal charges, it unintentionally provided an interesting opportunity for the entire office to come together & mingle in the parking lot, waiting for the bomb squad robot to sweep & give all clear.

That was the first time you & Junie first really ever exchanged words beyond an obligatory hello or goodbye each day. Her brash attitude & sardonic snark suddenly on full display for a much wider audience, now that she was no longer confined behind the receptionists’ desk & forced into using an artificially chipper “phone voice.”

In fact, that’s kind of how you unwittingly endeared yourself to her. You told her that her “real” voice, without her actively trying to downplay her accent, made her sound almost like Janine from Ghostbusters. You drew the obvious connection given her role in the company.

Obviously.

At the same time, it was funny how she was relieved to hear ‘Janine’ for once & not just ‘Harley Quinn’ for the five hundred thousandth time. And how drawing that connection instantly made you “good people” in her book. You got along great.

Ever since, passing by reception has quickly become the highlight of your in-office days. Always good vibes, even on the toughest workdays. Especially on the clock, during office hours. And over the course of several months, the tone of these interactions has seemed to organically shift from naturally pretty friendly to a bit… well… flirty. Mutually. In ways just skirting that razor’s edge of company policy.

You start to develop what could be feelings. Which in turn led to you asking, in what seemed like an obvious progression, about maybe going to grab lunch together. But then you noticed a pattern start to emerge. With a lot of excuse. First about how Junie always brings ”a salad.” Or instead of maybe grabbing drinks after work some Friday, how she’s “desperately” got to go work out. At first you take it to mean she’s trying to turn you down in the nicest ways possible, but all the while, she keeps making allusions to just how easily she can put on weight if she’s not “diligent.” How her job was basically just sitting on her ass all day, not burning calories. Making her have to work all the harder to keep it off. Her excuses seemed hyperbolic. But maybe even a little like she was looking for you to change her mind & let her be a bit naughty for once. Ultimately you always seemed to be a bit more hung up on the soft rejection then trying to push & ruin the vibes. After all, the flirtations continued. Leading to a few more mixed messages, but still good vibes overall.

Then earlier, this past winter, there was that week where she went on that cruise with her family. Having exchanged numbers prior, she sends you a couple of texts telling you she’s doing nothing but eating by the pool, or hitting the buffet line. But also how she misses your little interactions. 

Upon her return, she claims she’s been “very bad.” She’s noticeably a bit thicker. Not quite chubby. Hell, hardly even plump. Just… thicker. Colloquially, with the two “c’s.” A more pronounced hourglass, with the humblest of beginnings of a tummy forming. “Can’t freakin’ believe I ate so damn much!” You remember her bemoaning. 

Still, it looks good on her. Great even. She carries it quite well. So well, you spend inordinate amounts of time still thinking about her when you’re supposed to be preparing for the big meeting. Yet, at the same time? She seems a bit embarrassed by her recent over-indulgences. It leads to her being uncharacteristically a little skittish around you suddenly. A little colder, more withdrawn as she tries to hide it in frumpy sweaters.

On your way out, her third day back, she tells you she’s got no time for drinks. She’ll be too busy “working out until [she passes] out.”

Despite months of flirting, you’ve never really made reference to the fact you prefer a bigger woman. Hell, out of concern for putting her off, why would you? Maybe that’s why it struck her so dramatically when you simply, defiantly ask her “Why?”

”Why go nuts?” You remember asking clearly.

”Well, to work off all this new chub.“ She blushes as if it ought to be obvious, as she packs away her laptop for the day. She wasn’t her typically brassy self. “The way they just had food out everywhere, for free? The cruise was absolutely murder on my poor figure. And I’ve told you how easy I blimp up if I’m not careful.”

Speaking of being careful, you distinctly remember the debate you had going back & forth in your head about what you were going to say next. In fact, in the middle of saying it, you hesitated, thinking it was far too reckless. She was most certainly going to treat you differently after hearing this, you thought. But you said it anyway.

”I mean… I don’t know who told you that you ever needed to be “careful,” but I think you really… pull it off.”

It clears your lips, even though the volume gets exponentially softer with each word till you’re practically just mouthing the last few.

”What?!” She presses, a skewed smile dashed across her face. It’s hit her a lot differently than any of the other flirtations you two have had going back & forth so far. She’s off guard. From what you can garner from your months of friendship, her expression is a mix of roughly two dozen things at once. Ranging from disbelief all the way to what can only be described as “what took you so long?” After all, you always did get that faint glimmer in her eyes. Almost as if she wanted you to stop her from being so wrapped up in her fitness routine. But it dawns on you that she was genuinely waiting for you to respond.

”I’m saying,” you mumble, still a little unsure if it’s best to say out loud, especially as others shuffle past to leave for the day. “I don’t think you ought to drive yourself nuts keeping so trim all the time. A few… extra pounds look really nice on you.”

”Really?!” She says, exaggerating her response. She’s tilting her chin down & looking up at you with playfully incredulous green eyes from under translucent framed lens. “What?” She leans in to soften her voice a little, to keep the other coworkers filing past from hearing. “You sayin’ you like bigger girls or somethin’?” She presses further til she’s almost whispering past you. “You mean to tell me, this whole time? You’re like one of those chubby chasers?”

Not like you could back down from this point anyway, you recoil & shrug something of an exaggerated shrug, with a smirk accepting your of own absurdity.

 ”I’m just saying do whatever makes you the happiest.” You say vaguely. 

You distinctly remember the way she bit her full pink lip for a second, before happily responding:

”Maybe I will do that drink then.”

That’s where all this started. Going back a few months ago now.

Junie started foregoing the gym, joining you for lunch & the occasional happy hour. And as it turns out, she wasn’t kidding. The numbers on her scale start to tick upwards. Her soft, flabby belly starts to compete with her widening hourglass. 

It’s only a month before she starts becoming officially chubby. Over time, she toys with you, & playfully shifts the narrative. Going from how you asked her why she was so hard on herself to saying you straight up begged her to just get fat. You feign contention, arguing ”that’s now how it happened!” But who are you to argue with results? It’s a playful back & forth. Just like she’ll occasionally flash you her gut when no one else is looking. Even though it’s getting a little tougher to do discreetly, as she continues to go up a size, consistently. And now, explicitly knowing your predilections, she seems to like playing as a game of chicken. You & her seeing who will inevitably blink first.

”Am I taking it easy enough for your likin’? I mean I could always go a lot easier,” she threatens, “but then it’s all-“ She puffs up her cheeks & pantomimed a gesture of her hands growing further apart, as if she was being blown up like a balloon. She’ll even add soft, airy whistle for effect, knowing just the idea will drive you wild. “You want to see me as a big helpless blimp?” She’ll toy.

“I want to see you in whatever way makes you happiest.” You always insist, even though she jokes it’s a spineless response. On some level, she understands it’s earnest though. Just like deep down though, you’re both fully aware that this whole “letting her get fat” thing wasn’t entirely just your idea.