My Best Friends Crazy Fat Sister Ch 07

INTRODUCTION & DISCLAIMER - When the completely crazy BBW Zoe lived with her brother Adam and his short-tempered wife Emily, one of the biggest issues was that Zoe and Emily's menstrual cycles synchronized and they both got their periods at the same time, making life for Adam difficult to say the least. Sean, a lifelong bachelor, has had no such issues dealing with girls' problems, but he soon learns about PMS when its Zoe's time of the month. And when her monthly friend arrives for a visit, the inexperienced Sean must complete Period Awareness 1A under Zoe's instruction.

Please be aware that these stories are extremely graphic BBW/fat girl fetish stories, and includes female characters using the toilet and having their periods. If these themes are not your thing, please consider whether you want to read these stories. All characters and events are fictional, with any similarity to real persons living or dead coincidental and unintentional. Only characters aged 18 or over engage in sexual activity.

***

ADAM as to be expected had no problems fixing my phone. A few touches of some buttons from the IT guru and it was working again good as new.

"Thanks mate, you're a lifesaver," I said. "I'm a bit of a dinosaur when it comes to these things."

"Not a problem," said Adam.

"So, where's Emily and the kids?" I asked, having not seen them since I arrived.

"Connor and Rose are playing with their friends and Emily ..." Adam's voice trailed off as the petite figure of his wife entered the room.

While my sexual desires seemed to be for overweight blondes rather than skinny brunettes, Emily looked pretty damn fine today in the clothes she had worn to work. She was dressed in a tight black jumper, a short black skirt that came well above her knees, black pantyhose and black boots that came to just below her knees. Her long dark brown hair was tied back in a tight bun. Her pretty face wore a severe expression and she was wearing her glasses -- like Zoe Emily needed to wear glasses for close work and television - making her look somewhat like a dominatrix. Considering how Adam had said that Emily had been making herself available to him a lot more lately since Zoe's departure, I wondered if she had planned some fun with her husband while their kids were out and I was getting in the way.

"Hi Emily, how are you?" I asked as she looked me up and down with her brown eyes.

Emily ignored my greeting, and turned to Adam. "Oh no, no, no, no. No matter what that sister of yours has done to piss Sean off, Zoe is not coming back here, is that clear Adam? I should never have listened to you the last fucking time she lived with us!"

"Emily calm down," said Adam. He made the 'time out' expression to his wife, to which she glared at him in response. "Sean isn't here to hand Zoe back to us, we're just relaxing after work."

Emily's rigid body posture and angry facial expression did not change. "Relaxing hey? What's the matter Adam, didn't you relax enough at work? Was the beanbag you sat in for your meeting uncomfortable? Did you only get to play one game of table tennis? Did you lose to the work experience boy playing computer games? Or did you feel a bit over dressed in the tee-shirt and jeans you wore to the office today? Tell me Adam, what terrible things happened at the office that made you so stressed that you need to relax now?"

"Come on honey, I work hard, that's not fair," said Adam.

I agreed with Adam, although out of fear I wasn't about to speak up. Emily herself worked at in an office at a university where everybody was allowed to wear smart casual clothes, and while she would dress in formal business attire when she had to go for meetings, often she would attend work dressed in jeans, a jumper and sneakers.

"Let me tell you about a stressful day, Adam," said Emily. "Today I had my purchasing card statement reviewed by the fucking faceless yes-men auditors wanting to know why I spent money at an IT company in America. For fucks sake, it was specialized geographic software I need to do my fucking job, and my boss Patrick signed the fucking requisition form. What do they think, I'm buying expensive online games? That I'm embezzling money in a way I get caught straight away? Next I have Todd, that young graduate asking me one stupid question after another about sample analysis and what to put in the report, even what fucking font to use. Jesus Christ, how did he get a fucking science degree? After that, Patrick calls me into his office, and tells me that I have to take Todd along with the other members of our team on our field trip to the Grampians next week so he can get more experience working in the field. That's all I fucking need, that idiot hanging around me like a puppy when we're camping out."

"Sorry Emily, I didn't know you'd had such a rough day," said Adam, but Emily was not pacified.

"I couldn't even sit in peace and privacy on the toilet for ten minutes after lunch because I had people sending me emails and messages on my phone, 'Where's this Emily, where's that Emily, have you done this Emily?' I felt like texting them back, 'I'm on the toilet with my knickers around my ankles having a poo, will get back to you when I've finished wiping my arse.'" Emily glared at Adam. "But obviously you need to relax more than me, Adam."

Adam and I exchanged a discrete eye-roll knowing what the reason for Emily's bad mood was but not about to say it aloud. Unfortunately, we were not discrete enough and Emily was onto this straight away.

"What was that?" she demanded, glaring first at Adam, then at me, then Adam again. Neither of us dared say anything. "No, nothing to say now? You two got something to say to me, you say it to my face okay? But then I might as well be talking to the fucking wall, neither of you are man enough to say it."

Emily picked up her shoulder bag. "The kids or the dog?" she asked Adam.

"Sorry?" Adam asked.

Emily rolled her eyes, sighed deeply and glared at her husband. "In this house there are two children, they are our children who I was pregnant with and gave birth to and they are called Connor and Rose. One is a boy the other a girl, and you may have noticed them around the place. We also have a dog, a domesticated dog not a wolf, not a dingo, not a fox and he is called Buster. He has four legs and a hairy coat. Now at this point in time -- not tomorrow, not next week, not next year but right now -- the kids need to be picked up from their friends' house in a car, you know one of either of those big white things with wheels in the garage that we drive, and Buster needs to be walked. Walking the dog means attaching a lead to his collar and taking him to the park, you know that big open space with the trees, the bushes, the grass and the lake. What do you want to do? Do you want to collect the kids, or do you want to walk the dog?"

"I'll um -- walk the dog -- with Sean," said Adam meekly.

"And make sure Buster stays out of that fucking lake this time. I guess even you can get this right?"

"I'll do it," said Adam, not daring to antagonize Emily. "Hey, when we get back how about I cook tea for us and save you the job? It seems like you could use a break this evening."

"Don't patronize me Adam, I am more than capable of cooking dinner for my family." Emily collected her bag and extricated her car keys, striding for the front door which she slammed shut behind herself. As Adam and I put the dog on the leash, we heard Emily start her car and reverse out of the driveway much too fast.

"Drive carefully honey," muttered Adam under his breath.

"Emily seems a bit on edge this afternoon," I said as we walked down the street with Buster straining at his lead.

"A bit on edge? She woke up in a very bad mood this morning and things have just gotten worse ever since. You know how I said that Emily and I were having so much sex that I thought we might produce baby number three? As you saw by her black temper, that's obviously not going to happen in Emily's current 28-day-cycle. Sometimes I wished we had twelve kids, more pregnancies equals less PMS for Emily and less stress for me."

"Oh well, look on the bright side, you get the nice Emily back towards the end of next week," I said.

"Yeah, but the nice Emily will be on a field trip to the Grampians," sighed Adam. "I wish she was doing her field trip this week, although it wouldn't be great for her colleagues. Emily having her period while camping isn't a good thing, as you probably remember."

"Oh yeah, I definitely remember that," I said.

The incident Adam spoke of took place at Easter in 1999, when a group of us guys were going camping together in the Gippsland area for four days. Initially it was boys' weekend away, but two of the other guys wanted to bring their girlfriends, and Emily loved camping and the outdoors so she wanted to come along too, so girls were invited.

Emily was always gifted mathematically which made her career as a geologist a sound choice. She could do the most amazing calculus, geometry, physics and chemistry calculations that I found unintelligible, and even now I was amazed at the complex geographic and geological information she could analyze with ease.

However, it seemed that the then 19-year-old Emily was not so good at calculating her monthly cycle, and that the Easter long weekend was when she was due for her period. Sure enough, Emily spent the first two days of the trip snipping and sniping at everyone and everything, then the next two days dealing with the stark realities of menstruating while camping with basic facilities. Given this incident and the scene a PMS-affected Emily made at the movies, it was a pretty clear warning to Adam what he was in for every four weeks.

"Back then, I thought Emily's worst quality was the football team that she follows," laughed Adam. "But I don't know what it is, Emily's time of the month just seems to coincide with her getting sick or injured. Fortunately that wasn't the case when she had that summer flu just before Christmas given Zoe's antics at the same time, but with the back injury, the cold and the food poisoning ..." Adam shook his head in despair.

I knew what Adam was talking about, and it was hard not to feel sympathy for Emily given over the past 12 months the poor girl had endured a bad run health wise. The back injury had taken place about a year ago, causing Emily to have two weeks off work. This drove her crazy of course, the medication causing her stomach upsets and not being able to exercise, but for the first week at least things weren't too bad, with Emily getting addicted to a teen drama she had watched as a teenager herself back in the 1990s and now shown on TV as re-runs during the day. However, the second week was period time for Emily, and this was a bad thing given how much pain she was in anyway. Adam bore the brunt of Emily's wrath, the worst of it being when Emily's back went into spasm when she was sitting on the toilet emptying her bowels, and used the last piece of toilet paper just as this happened. A deeply uncomfortable Adam had to enter the bathroom while Emily was on the toilet -- something she never normally permitted -- and get his wife a new roll of loo paper, the irritable Emily constantly reminding him that he was not to look at her while she was on the toilet.

About six weeks after this Emily picked up a bad cold when in Canberra for a conference, and of course this had to happen during her ladies' time. Adam decided on a new tactic -- treating his premenstrual wife like a princess while she was sick and off work. Unfortunately, this backfired and caused the hormonal Emily to implode, Emily breaking down in tears and crying for hours about how Adam treated her so well and she was such a bitch, and how she didn't deserve him and the like.

Then during the winter Emily's family went out to a dinner at a fancy restaurant one night, and of course Emily ordered a healthy chicken salad with no dressing. Unfortunately for Emily, her dinner was the only one containing unsafe bacteria levels, delivering Emily a severe bout of food poisoning leading to a week off work with nasty gastro, and of course during the week of her period. I was at the house on the Saturday fixing a broken porch light and Emily, not looking far from death warmed up, wandered out dressed in an over-size tee-shirt over panties to say hello and get a breath of fresh air. The petite brunette was immediately taken short, and forced to run as fast as her bare feet would carry her into the main toilet for yet another attack of diarrhea.

Emily had of course had a bucket beside her bed during this time for when she needed to vomit, and from what Adam said she had used it a lot. But on the toilet with her knickers around her ankles, Emily did not have her sick bucket handy when she needed to throw up, and frantically had to scream for Adam to help her. Adam, who did not relish the prospect of cleaning up his wife's vomit from the toilet floor had set something of a land-speed record racing into the kitchen to grab a bowl, passing it to Emily through the door and averting disaster with seconds to spare.

"You're in for it too this week," Adam warned me.

"Yeah, Emily wasn't all that nice to me either."

"Not Emily. Zoe. And good luck with that because believe me, you are going to need it."

Suddenly it came to me what I had been forgetting. Given the time that had passed since Zoe moved in, that Adam had said Zoe and Emily were both having their periods the weekend before, Emily was giving a clear demonstration that she had PMS, Zoe's period was due this week.

"Actually Zoe was in a good mood this morning," I said. "She's been in a good mood all week actually."

"She'll change, oh believe me she will change," said Adam. "And you won't know what has hit you. But the important thing is that I keep Emily away from Zoe, and you keep Zoe away from Emily."

"You were saying it was pretty bad when they had their periods at the same time," I observed.

Adam gave a thin smile. "My wife and my sister are both disasters on legs when it's that time of the month. Think about major disasters, the worst of the worst, and combine them together. Let's say Emily is Cyclone Tracy and Zoe Hurricane Katrina. Pretend Emily is the Black Saturday bushfires and Zoe is Ash Wednesday. Or Zoe is the Titanic, and Emily the Estonia. Imagine combining Cyclone Tracy with Hurricane Katrina, the Black Saturday and Ash Wednesday fires into one blaze, and the Titanic and the Estonia disasters together."

"That's scary," I said.

"That's Emily and Zoe having their periods simultaneously," said Adam.

We had been discussing Emily and Zoe so much that neither of us realized that Buster had slipped his leash out of Adam's hand. When we realized the dog was gone, it was too late. Buster had made a beeline for the lake and Adam's call of 'Buster!' came too late as the dog plunged into the muddy, smelly waters of the lake.

"Emily is going to kill me for this, she said to keep the dog out of the lake," sighed Adam as we ran to retrieve the dog, avoiding getting showered with muddy water as the dog shook himself.

"She can't kill you if I'm there," I said.

"You have a Y chromosome, Emily will happily murder you too if only to eliminate you as a witness. Most everyone with a Y chromosome Emily sees as an enemy when she's like this, the only one who might get a free pass is her gay friend Miles. Perhaps if we hurry we can get the dog home before Emily gets back, wash Buster and Emily won't know any better."

Adam and I rushed to his house, and put the dog into the back yard through the side gate. The garage door was closed, so it was impossible to see whether Emily's car was back yet. Adam was about to open it when the voice of Rose was heard from the back yard, "Buster, you're all wet!" Emily was definitely back, and could not have failed to hear her daughter's voice.

Adam rolled his eyes. "That's it, we're screwed."

We looked at the road, where two pretty young women aged in their mid-20s jogged by. Adam's eyes followed the skinny brunette, my eyes followed her overweight blonde friend. "I wish I was running with them," Adam said under his breath.

"Me too," I agreed. As we walked into the house to no doubt face Emily's wrath, I said, "Have I mentioned Zoe has taken up running since she moved in?"

"Running, that's a new thing, she hasn't exercised in years," said Adam. "Maybe she might be on the verge of turning things around? But knowing Zoe, it won't last."

From further up the hallway came the voice of Emily, arguing with her son. "Connor, I am busy, I don't want to discuss Justin in your class in school, okay? Find something else to do, or I'll find you some maths to do to keep you busy."

Connor was undeterred. "But why is Justin now called Justine and allowed to wear skirts and dresses to school, play girls' sports and go to the girls' toilets?"

"Connor, I just told you that I don't care about what he does, and I don't want to talk about what he does."

"The teacher said we must call Justin Justine and say she not he."

"I don't care what the teacher said Conner, Justin is a boy, he is not a girl. Now enough already."

Emily came into our sight in the kitchen. She had taken off her glasses, untied her bun and her long dark hair now hung loose down past her shoulders. Emily had also changed out of the clothes she had worn to work and was now attired in a white jumper and blue jeans, her feet bare. She regarded us with disdain and made for one of the cabinets, and to my astonishment took out a family sized packet of chocolate chip cookies, ripping open the packet in great haste and devouring one biscuit like a starving dog, then taking another.

"Next time Adam, you deal with Connor's questions about that fucking freak in his class at school," snapped Emily.

"The school said Justin is transitioning," Adam volunteered.

Emily glared at Adam while devouring another cookie. "Transitioning? You sound like one of those fucking liberal do-gooders who shove that shit down the throats of us normal people. That kid in Connor's class is a fucked up, tranny freak and our kids should not be subjected to that shit. Why doesn't he just play dress ups with his sister at home or be a drag queen when he grows up? Justin is not Justine, he is not a girl and he never will be. He's just a boy pretending to be a girl."

"Um Emily, you have a gay friend, you are being kind of prejudiced," Adam pointed out.

Again, a look of disdain from Emily as she ate another chocolate chip biscuit. "Miles may be gay, he may like going shopping, he may say to women that they look fabulous and he may be living with another man but at least he knows he is a man. You are both men, Miles is a man, I'm a woman and all people are either male or female, there is no middle ground. Like that kid at Connor's school, what the fuck are his parents thinking? Their kid is a freak and they allow it. And I have to put up with the insanity of my kids asking questions about it. Fuck that."

Clearly, there was no changing Emily's mind in her premenstrual mindset, and she soon turned her attention to other matters. "Did the dog go in the lake Adam, after I specifically told you not to let him swim in it?"

"Don't worry, I'll give him a bath," Adam assured Emily.

Again, the withering glare from Emily in an attempt to goad Adam into arguing with her. "You've got that right, you will be giving him a bath." I found myself sharing Emily's wrath with Adam, as her petite body seethed with rage. "And both of you, two grown men, how simple can it be to keep a dog out of a lake? What went wrong at the park Larry and Curly, were you waiting for Moe to turn up?" Adam and I did not answer, and Emily sneered, "Well come on, I'm waiting."