Better, Brighter, Whiter, Part 11 (Patreon)

It took only about a month for the school to announce that changes were going to be made in school policy, but to Emmie’s slight disappointment, they stated that in order to give everyone time to adjust as well as to give the policies themselves time to be processed, refined, and then codified, the changes were set to only officially take place the following school year instead of the beginning of the next semester. The news was relayed through a schoolwide email and posted in the school magazine, which only slightly irked her further. For the first three months of her college experience, the program was all she could focus on but once her original presentation was complete, she was finally able to relax a bit. There were still things to do and she would still have to make presentations and speak with the board as she found new issues and ways to resolve them, but this time it was less stressful given that she would be working with the board and the rest of the student body instead of trying to convince both not to shut her down. In her downtime Emmie would frequently have to force herself to jot some notes down just to have something to say she was still running the program diligently, but with the worst of it behind her and the deadlines months apart, she found it increasingly difficult to care about writing down every one of the many microaggressions she dealt with on a daily basis. At this point, she knew that every one of those men on the advisory board would do whatever she asked if she played pretty for them and batted her long eyelashes their way.

The backlash she faced from Professor Boardwell was a frustrating consequence of her willingness to speak out against his poor treatment of her as well as the degredaing of other female students in his class, but the more he blustered, the more she realized how harmless he really was. She used to see him as this imposing obstacle that held her fate in her hands so long as he was the one grading everything she did, but despite his constantly snide remarks about her appearance and his continuous refusal to call her by her real name, he never gave her any bad marks unless she legitimately answered a question incorrectly. If she came in hung over after a night with the girls he would say things like “Oh look. It seems Miss Knight is having a rough morning.

Partying a little too hard, Emily?” Or when she came to class in a low cut shirt, he said “That’s very nice, Emily, but you’re going to need much more up top if you want to seduce me into giving you a better grade.” He really was all talk and never made good on any of his thinly veiled threats of suspension or academic penalties for disagreeing with him, but all the same she couldn’t help but feel insecure when compared to girls like Evangeline Schartzwald, who effortlessly filled an H cup corest to the brim while Emmie’s 32 C’s were virtually unnoticeable unless she was wearing a V-neck, and even then, they weren’t much to look at as far as Bright Girls went.

Malcolm would check in periodically to make sure the girls were doing well and that they were fully accommodated. He pulled some strings to allow Kat VIP access to the gym, but warned her that if she continued bulking up beyond what the school considered a healthy weight range, she was going to have her classes switched to something more “school appropriate.” Kat was not happy about this.

(1)

Keili too had voiced complaints that Malcolm had been harping on her to change up her wardrobe since her mandatory diet had removed a decent amount of puppy fat from her waist. He kept insisting that inclusivity was about showing your true self instead of hiding it under sweatpants and t-shirts, but the dark haired girl was certain that he, like all men, was just trying to get her to show some skin for his own enjoyment. Even so, her willingness to show off on social media had greatly increased.

(2)

Despite this, Emmie didn’t really agree with their theories about him. If there was one guy that she knew she could count on in the entire school, it was Malcom Dell. He’d become one of her biggest adovocates on the BOA and acted as a sort of sponsor for B.B.W.’s activities. Whenever Emmie needed something, she knew that all she had to do was call Malcolm and he would jump at the chance to fix it. The group’s professional bi-monthly Zoom calls had turned into bi-weekly, one-on-one workshops where the two of them would both excitedly throw ideas for projects and events at each other, often for hours at a time. Kat and Keili would tease her about it during their morning yoga sessions, but she insisted that they were just both really excited for the program. Even so, every one of the girls was well aware of the gigantic, glowing smile on Emmie’s face whenever she and Malcolm spoke.

(3)

“Hurry up, bitch! I’m fucking starving!” Sophie called from the driveway.

“I know!! Sorry, I’m coming!” Emmie said, rifling through her purse for her keys before attempting to lock the door behind her, only to stand perplexed as to why it wasn’t working.

“UGGGGGHHHHH!!!! I’m about to leave without you, hurry the fuck up!” Her friend whined sarcstically.
“Chill the fuck ouuuut! I’m here. They’re gonna still have food when we get there.” Emmie said, finally walking to the car after realizing that she’d been trying to use the extra key to Sophie’s place instead of her own. Both would fit in the slot, but only hers would actually turn in the locking mechanism.

Emmie finally wandered out to the car where Sophie was luxuriating on the hood and found her subconsciously analyzing her appearance. She had a sort of post-emo vibe going on with her opaque purple highlights and generalized dark color scheme. She wasn’t exactly what you’d expect to see at Bright University, but that gave the plump girl a measure of exotic charm that landed her a surprising but welcome number of sex partners, though most of them were women looking for some NSA fun post-breakup or a quick, casual hookup after a night of drinking at one of the many clubs and bars in town. She didn’t especially seem to mind, claiming that she was getting all the attention she wanted without the hassle of having to date some obnoxiously preppy meathead law student and be obligated to be near him again once she’d gotten what she wanted. She moved like a cat from the hood to the driver’s seat, lazily sliding off of the hood while Emmie couldn’t help but stare as her belly rolls flattened out into a generous, inviting curve along her waist while her heavy thighs jiggled and quivered with plodding footfall. Her ass was so big that it caused her dress to ride up, periodically revealing just a little cheek and a glimpse of dark purple lace that just happened to match the color of her hair. Something in Emmie’s mind told her that this was by design. Sophie’s little black dresses were designed to climb and creep, drawing attention to her fat ass and wobbling tits as both threatened to pour out of it.

(4)

“See something you like, babe?” Sophie teased with a wink and a flirtatious popping of her eyebrow.

“I’m just wondering if the bottom of that dress is actually gonna touch the seat once you sit down.” The caramel blonde said, raising her own with judgemental eyebrows.

“Prolly not. Most of them don’t.” Sophie said, biting her tongue sexily for just a second before scanning Emmie up and down. “Nice outfit, Barbie.”

“Oh shut the fuck up about that.” Emmie rolled her eyes.

“I’m telling you. The Pinkening is real. And you, Emma Lee are afflicted.” Sophie teased.

“Bitch why? Cuz I have a pink shirt on?”

“And pink nails. And pink shoes. And are those blue contacts? You don’t even need them. Your eyes are fine.” She pressed.

“Oh what-ever.” Emmie rolled her eyes. “My shoes are white. They just have a pink stripe on them.”

“Your lipstick’s pink too.” The chubby latina replied casually, prompting only a sigh and another eye roll.
Emmie sighed. “I can’t wear pink lipstick?”

“You can wear pink. You TOOOOOTALLY can. It’s like…TOTALLY like SUUUUPER hawt and like SO your color. Maybe like…after this we can like…go to the mall and like talk about boys!” Sophie teased. “Keep this up and you’ll be head of the cheer squad by next semester. All pink and fluffy with tits the size of your empty blonde head.”

There was a grain of truth to what she was saying, and both of them knew it. Everyone in their group had been absorbing the local color since moving onto campus. While Keili and Kat embraced the changes in style and demeanor, Sophie and Tori seemed to be adamant that something was afoot and that there was some dark conspiracy to brainwash the students into a bright, preppy mold before they graduated. They would halfheartedly make attempts to avoid such a cruel and horrible fate, championing body positivity and freedom of individual expression, but even then, Everyone could see their outfits becoming more daring and their demeanor more flirtatious. For as much as they claimed to be fighting it, both of them had become preoccupied with their looks and slept around like any Bright Girl should, snapping sexy selfies in foreign bedrooms and then showing off their thick, curvy bodies on insta.

(5)

Emmie had to admit that even she had been having a hard time not falling into the same sociological trap. With everyone around her either taking part or encouraging the behavior, she too found herself constantly shopping for clothes online or looking for ways to enhance her natural figure.

“Well maybe I’m just finally doing my part to fuel the system.” She said sarcastically. “I have finally seen the light and this is just my way of becoming a Better, Brighter, Whiter me.”

There was a momentary rush through her body as she finished saying the words that made her heart skip a beat. It was embarrassing to think about, but she was beginning to enjoy the amount of teasing she was getting about her increasingly girly state of being.

“You say that like it’s not actually true.” Sophie said with alarming casuality. She sounded like it was an obvious fact.

“It’s not.” Emmie replied, just a little too quickly for her own liking.

“Oh yeah? How’s your diet going?” Asked Sophie.
“It’s fine. I’ve actually been doing really good and I can see my waist slimming down. I’m actually starting to get a little toned.” She said, lifting up her shirt and pressing around her slim tummy and feeling the soft muscle beneath a sensual layer of fluff.

“Exactly.” Her friend replied. “You never told me you were on a diet.”

Emmie laughed, blushed, then turned away. “Oh my god, shut UUUP!”

After several minutes, Sophie looked over to see Emmie smiling at her phone as they approached the stop sign at the end of the main street, the sound of passing cars and the clicking of her turn signal filling the break in conversation.

“Who’s that?” She asked.

“Malcolm.” Emmie responded.

“Oh yeah? What’s he saying?” Sophie asked, smirking.

(6)

“Nothing really.” Emmie said.

“Just asking if we’re on our way.”