Yes Chelsea, part 9 (Patreon)

*Olivia Richter, age 33


“Yes Chelsea, I’m serious.”


My new partner is absolutely amazing. Greg is not only well off, he’s smart, considerate, and capable. Living with him has been crazy too. I go to work and when I come home, he refuses to let me lift a finger if I don’t have to. He gives me foot massages without asking, he cleans up without being asked, and he even gets along with my daughter like she was his own. Granted, having us pay for all her shopping trips certainly hasn’t hurt any and Chelsea has always been one to enjoy a good bribe.


My real concern is that I’ve become complacent since going from depressed and overworked to pampered and wealthy. Greg’s attention has been wonderful, but after outgrowing the last of my old sweatpants, I had to face the music: I’d gotten fat.
It honestly didn’t bother me as much as I thought, though my daughter would frequently point out that I had gained weight or that I looked fatter than before. Ironically, she was teasing the person whose genes she took after without seeming to realize that one day she was going to end up with my metabolism and propensity for piling on weight really fast. I brought up kids and she damn near ran away.
Regardless, I mentioned my insecurities about my weight to Greg and he reassured me that he was just as attracted to me as ever, but I told him that that wasn’t the problem. In the end, he agreed to help me out and paid for a group gym membership for our whole family. Greg has always been pretty fit, but I was surprised at how quickly Chelsea jumped to start working out with us.


After the first couple months of all of us exercising in earnest, we each began to see results. I am already 16 pounds down while Greg has bulked up a bit, claiming that being 36 has finally allowed him to gain the muscle he wants. Chelsea however is an absolute BABE and we can’t help but have necks snapping lift and right as most men and some women all turn to watch her pass by. Not only has she been putting in the serious gym time, she has also been eating like she’s possessed, so all that fat and muscle went straight to her boobs and butt.
Just like mine did before I got pregnant with her.

*Chelsea Richter, age 18


“Oh trust me, by the time you get pregnant, those things will practically double in size.”


My mom and I have been working out together with Greg at his VIP gym thing and it’s been a pretty good experience. I ended up getting a job at the mall food court and while the work itself isn’t so bad, being around ice cream 6 hours a day is a problematically tempting situation. Luckily for me, Greg came through when he did and all the weight that I gained at work and at home has been giving me some amazing gym results.


I’ve gone up 4 pant sizes in 2 months and am a full D cup to boot. My mom is weirdly preoccupied with my boobs since they started growing, and loves trying to tell me that one day I’m just gonna get fat like her and there’s just nothing I can do about it but marry rich and pay for surgery or something. I think it’s a little ironic that she would be going on about how hopeless it is to try and lose weight while she is literally on the treadmill next to me in the yoga pants she just bought to celebrate the other ones not fitting right.


Still, she seems to be trying to live through me again or predict my future by assuming I am going to be her clone and have the same life she did, which is annoying. Still, it’s not so bad that I can’t just ignore it or argue against her claims, which she takes….alright mostly. Her new favorite thing to say is that I am going to get pregnant.


I don’t know why mom is so hell bent on trying to convince me to let myself get knocked up, but she loves telling me all about how big her boobs got when she had me and just how thick and curvy she became afterward. Of course, the point of this is that because it happened to her, I am going to wind up single and alone with a baby on the way, but then I’ll turn into a fat housewife whose greatest aspiriation is to mooch off of her husband.


In the meantime, I am killing it at the gym and I’m finally at a place where I feel proud of my body and enjoy how I look. That being said, the guys at work appreciate it too. We have a discord where we rate fitness goals and do body checks and stuff with the occasional nude pics. I’ve sent a few myself and ever since, my coworkers have been obsessed with my appearance. Though now they’re starting to tease me for hitting my “Pinkening” phase where as a former goth, I have to obsess over girly shit. I said they were stupid and asked when the last time they’d seen me wear anything pink, and they were just like “….Yeah. Just now. Your gym clothes are Hot Pink.”


I walked into that one really. I sent the picture of myself on the treadmill and immediately forgot about it afterward. Even so, that outfit gets me STARED AT like I just started levitating or something. Then they all flock ove one at a time to chat me up and tell me how beautiful I am, but would really spend the majority of the time staring into my cleavage.


Still though….
Not gonna lie. It’s a good feeling