Read Online American Thighs by Jill Conner Browne - Free Book Online
Authors: Jill Conner Browne
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Iâve ever received.
Our first âO-fficialâ SPQ Outfits also reflected my enthusiasm for age-appropriate nekkidity. They were heavily augmented swimsuits and they were, naturally, backless. Of course,the padded butts were so heavy, we had to wear tights and, even at that, be careful we didnât inadvertently moon the crowd, and the padded boobs were likewise likely to pull the straps off our shoulders, so we had to put a tie around the straps in the back to hold them up.
The next Outfits reflected our gradual move away from our fat-free youth and into the more mature garb befitting our Post-Larvahood status. The necks were high, there was some flesh revealed on our backs, but it was greatly reduced, and we wore the longest gloves available. They were not swimsuits but mini-dresses.
By and by, we found we could still get away with the basic design of these dresses, but they had somehow become shortened just from hanging in the storage closet. How this happened remained a mystery until someone (whose mutilated corpse was later found being eaten by rats in an abandoned Dairy Queenâthe identity of the murderer[s] remains a mystery but the reason for the killing was, of course, immediately clear) suggested that perhaps it was not so much that the dresses had shrunk but that our recently acquired FAT was making them too short.
The message of the deceased could not be ignored (even though silenced) and so an arrangement of ruffles was contrived to lengthen the offending skirts sufficiently to conceal the excessive thighage. Before much more time had passed, however, it became necessary to take further action in the camouflage and concealment of our ever-burgeoning bodies. It was also getting to be time to increase the size of our augmentations considerably, since by this point we had gotten so fat, it no longer looked like we were augmented in any way. We just looked like fat girls whose dresses were too tight. This was not the look we were going for.
The current Outfits are e-normous. I insisted that the tits and asses for these suits be of sufficient size that no matter HOW FAT we ultimately get, our waistlines will appear waiflike in comparison. We are happily growing into them.
In acknowledgment of the painful fact that our Larvadom has long since been left trampled in the dirt and that we are actually, in fact, rapidly approaching Peri-Geezer status, the latest outfits reveal absolutely NO actual flesh. The nude-colored fabric of the upper portion of the dresses gives the ILLUSION of naked without the horrifying harsh REALITY of it.
The swimsuits of my Larva years were shockingly tiny for the times. Today, of course, theyâd be considered granny panties, but nonetheless, a great deal of my personal square footage was displayed in those suits. However, even if I woke up tomorrow and found Iâd turned into a twenty-one-year-old â10,â I canât imagine that Iâd go out in public in a thong. I donât care how cute your behind is, I donât want to see all of it and I donât think Iâm alone in this.
Today, Iâm not so much interested in going to a nude beachâI would love to find a BLIND one, though.
Asset-Preserving Tip
Everybodyâs always pretending to be something theyâre not. When youâre thirteen, youâre always trying to make people think youâre eighteen (Note: Girls can occasionally get away with thisâso if youâre a guyâbewareâbe very wareâbecause you can end up in prison being called âDarlene.â) When youâre eighteen you want people to believe you are twenty-one. Then, when you close in on thirty, you start lying in the OTHER direction.
So much simpler to just BE what we happen to BE, in my opinion. Lying, about anything, is just too tedious to fool withâtoo much to remember. I knew a woman once who assiduously avoided any discussion of ageâit was hilarious to observe the
Our first âO-fficialâ SPQ Outfits also reflected my enthusiasm for age-appropriate nekkidity. They were heavily augmented swimsuits and they were, naturally, backless. Of course,the padded butts were so heavy, we had to wear tights and, even at that, be careful we didnât inadvertently moon the crowd, and the padded boobs were likewise likely to pull the straps off our shoulders, so we had to put a tie around the straps in the back to hold them up.
The next Outfits reflected our gradual move away from our fat-free youth and into the more mature garb befitting our Post-Larvahood status. The necks were high, there was some flesh revealed on our backs, but it was greatly reduced, and we wore the longest gloves available. They were not swimsuits but mini-dresses.
By and by, we found we could still get away with the basic design of these dresses, but they had somehow become shortened just from hanging in the storage closet. How this happened remained a mystery until someone (whose mutilated corpse was later found being eaten by rats in an abandoned Dairy Queenâthe identity of the murderer[s] remains a mystery but the reason for the killing was, of course, immediately clear) suggested that perhaps it was not so much that the dresses had shrunk but that our recently acquired FAT was making them too short.
The message of the deceased could not be ignored (even though silenced) and so an arrangement of ruffles was contrived to lengthen the offending skirts sufficiently to conceal the excessive thighage. Before much more time had passed, however, it became necessary to take further action in the camouflage and concealment of our ever-burgeoning bodies. It was also getting to be time to increase the size of our augmentations considerably, since by this point we had gotten so fat, it no longer looked like we were augmented in any way. We just looked like fat girls whose dresses were too tight. This was not the look we were going for.
The current Outfits are e-normous. I insisted that the tits and asses for these suits be of sufficient size that no matter HOW FAT we ultimately get, our waistlines will appear waiflike in comparison. We are happily growing into them.
In acknowledgment of the painful fact that our Larvadom has long since been left trampled in the dirt and that we are actually, in fact, rapidly approaching Peri-Geezer status, the latest outfits reveal absolutely NO actual flesh. The nude-colored fabric of the upper portion of the dresses gives the ILLUSION of naked without the horrifying harsh REALITY of it.
The swimsuits of my Larva years were shockingly tiny for the times. Today, of course, theyâd be considered granny panties, but nonetheless, a great deal of my personal square footage was displayed in those suits. However, even if I woke up tomorrow and found Iâd turned into a twenty-one-year-old â10,â I canât imagine that Iâd go out in public in a thong. I donât care how cute your behind is, I donât want to see all of it and I donât think Iâm alone in this.
Today, Iâm not so much interested in going to a nude beachâI would love to find a BLIND one, though.
Asset-Preserving Tip
Everybodyâs always pretending to be something theyâre not. When youâre thirteen, youâre always trying to make people think youâre eighteen (Note: Girls can occasionally get away with thisâso if youâre a guyâbewareâbe very wareâbecause you can end up in prison being called âDarlene.â) When youâre eighteen you want people to believe you are twenty-one. Then, when you close in on thirty, you start lying in the OTHER direction.
So much simpler to just BE what we happen to BE, in my opinion. Lying, about anything, is just too tedious to fool withâtoo much to remember. I knew a woman once who assiduously avoided any discussion of ageâit was hilarious to observe the
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