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Rosaline emerged from the stairwell and began to run. To where was not a consideration she made as she began to pick up speed, her damnable ass undulating with inconceivable momentum as she made for the exit doors. Garrison's Student Center had 6 floors and was built into a hill, and so had exits on the first and fourth floor that led to solid ground. It was this solid ground she clambered for as she approached the sliding glass doors that led to the outside world. She felt eyes all around her as the other students on campus went about their day, some simply watching as she flew by, some narrowly avoiding a being run over with quick sidestep or by stopping to allow her passage, and some rushing past her as they hurriedly made their way toward their own obligations. The young woman felt all the eyes in Garrison University center in on her absurdly sized ass as she barely slowed her pace to allow the automatic doors to slide open before her. She shot a quick glance over her shoulder to see if she had been pursued, and was thankful to see that the stairwell door, a good distance behind her now, had swung shut, the spectators nowhere in sight. Ever so slightly relieved, she cast a wistful glance backward at the dual escalators that worked to transport students up and down the considerable height of the student center's interior. She was unable to use them: they simply did not accommodate her hips, and she was nowhere near willing to try and force it.
The bottom-heavy woman heard the familiar scuff of the automatic doors opening ahead of her, and the young woman continued her sprint into the outside world. Rosaline was immediately accosted by the harsh orange-and-yellow glow of the setting sun as her dainty feet made contact with paved sidewalk. Raising her hand and squinting to protect her light green eyes, she tore off toward the distant looming shape of Darrington Library, its familiar reddish mass picturesque while framed with the reaching verdant branches of trees that extended over sidewalk and road alike. Rosaline passed by each one of these trees, and the library too, as she tore off toward nowhere, anywhere, so long as it got her away from those accursed eyes. She passed the arching tower of Io Hall, the natural sciences building. She ran down a declining brick-laden path past Matsumoto Hall, the ethics and philosophy building. She had made it to the vermillion walls of The Bell, an inaccessible clock tower that stood above most other structures on campus, when she finally felt her mammoth legs begin to wobble and protest, threatening to give out underneath her.
Suddenly she was panting as if she had been running all her life and her lower body felt heavier than it had ever felt before. Her gasps for air rang out and up the expanse of The Bell, and she reached out a small hand to stifle her heavy inhales as if worried the structure would sound them out over the entirety of campus. It had no such power, thankfully, and what was more, she had unintentionally reached a spot on campus relatively devoid of human life. The Bell was largely left alone and regarded as an expensive eyesore -- everyone knew what time it was.
Fighting the urge to simply plop down in a wobbling heap on the sidewalk, she heaved her hulking lower mass to a nearby iron bench and collapsed onto it, ignoring the creaks of anguish it produced as she did. Not a single roll appeared on her flat stomach as her tiny upper body doubled over, suddenly overtaken by a wave of nausea. Her diminutive hands clapped onto immense, grey legging-clad thighs as she fought to keep herself from dry heaving. Breathing deeply, doubled over, she was quite the sight -- like her landmass-sized hips and thighs were attempting to swallow everything above her slim waist.
A few moments passed and Rosaline's breathing slowed, reverting to a regular if not weary pace. She sniffled softly and allowed a few tears to well up in her eyes as she sat motionless. Her nausea passing, she sat straight up and pushed her weight back, allowing her monumental cheeks to spread out on either side of her and smush out of the open backrest of the bench. Her lower mass occupied more than half its available space while her torso sat precariously atop it all like the hood ornament on a car.
There she sat for nearly fifteen minutes, no thoughts passing through her head, no words coming from her mouth. She appeared catatonic, only beginning to stir once her mounds began to throb with a dull ache, sore from the rigid seat she had collapsed onto. A few droplets rolled down her freckled cheeks.
Had that... really happened? It all seemed too improbable, too cruel. Every move she had made had worsened the situation, and the two boys hadn't even begun to mock her yet. Rosaline sighed. She was lucky to have avoided the mocking, as it was more than she could reasonably expect from her early life in the 3,000 person town of Fortune, Pennsylvania. There she could always expect a verbal lashing when her butt made a fool out of her, and she could never escape those who would deliver those lashings. Today, she had been lucky.
Indeed, Rosaline had been exceedingly lucky during the whole of her 3-week stay at Garrison University -- her titanic ass had been problematic, no question, but she had managed to keep away from most students up until this point. She rushed to her classes early and bolted the second the professors had dismissed them, and she had developed the strategy of selecting the more open chairs at the back walls of her classrooms in order to avoid being wedged into a little desk whenever she could. Even when she couldn't, she could feign busy work until her classmates had left her behind, allowing her privacy from which to wriggle out of her constraints. She had been ecstatic to learn that university desks, while still small, on average tended to be larger than their high school counterparts -- though they still meant a lengthy extraction process if she crammed herself into one. Rosie still had much adaptation to do in terms of maneuvering her colossal assets about her new home, but the problematic moments had thus far mostly been in private, or mercifully quick.
Now with the semester kicking off in earnest, she had been pleasantly surprised to discover that her classes were relatively easy. She had harbored an interest in historical subjects since she had visited an anthropological museum in the fifth grade, and so the discussions of the cultures of ancient civilizations and the progression of the American Revolutionary War had largely been review for her as she recollected tidbits of information from her own independent research. However, her introductory class, Introduction to Historical Thought, had left her with a paper to complete this week. It was due in 5 days and she had not even looked at it.
The monotony and routine of schooling had often worked to soothe Rosaline's nerves in high school, and it accomplished the same purpose here as her blush slowly began to fade. Her thoughts of the two boys she had given an unintentional performance to melted away to concerns of how to verbalize her approach to consideration of historical topics with an unbiased lens. In fact... she felt good enough to begin writing the paper now! She could wipe it out today and have Saturday and Sunday to relax in her dorm, tucked away from prying eyes.
Yes, yes, that was what she was going to do. Forcing the recollection of the amazed boys' faces out of her mind, she made to stand -- however, the top of her elephantine booty collided softly with the interior of the open backrest of her bench. It had protruded out about a foot through the opening in her seat behind her, and the top portion of the backrest halted its ascent.
"Wha-
gah!"
Unable to either stand or keep her balance with the massive counterweight dangling behind her, her considerable legs buckled and she fell back onto the seat of the bench with a loud
"Wumph!"
as the massive weight of her asscheeks came careening back to the bench.
"Oof." she said simply, surveying her surroundings for any witnesses to her mishap. She found none and breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment she worried she was going to be stuck, but scooting forward slightly pulled the protrusion of her ass through the opening in the bench and allowed her to stand without issue.
"Hoo! Wow. Okay. Um..." Roseline huffed. She decided it was best to leave it at that. The movement of countless ripples again initiated behind her, and she felt every one intimately as she began to make her way back to Valor Hall -- her home for the past three weeks.
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In the years previous to Rosaline's residence at Garrison, Valor Hall was not an overly pretty sight by most standards. An older building compared to most of the campus surrounding it, it had stood apart as a monochrome creamy beige as opposed to the bright, bombastic red and white many of the other buildings were adorned with, and the exterior had shown significant wear and tear. That had all changed on Rosaline's debut year, however, wherein the hall had been thoroughly remodeled by campus administration in preparation to admit more students. The coloration had been updated, with stark white walls contrasted by a crimson roof, and it had received a wide array of amenities such as a game room, laundry room, private showers for each dorm, high ceilings reminiscent of a hotel suite, and (rather importantly) air conditioning. These changes had made it something of a desirable hall for incoming freshmen, one that Rosaline had attained a spot in thanks to her application being submitted well before the due date. Others, such as Bailey, Becca, and Britney, had no doubt been included at the insistence of influential parents. Others still had simply been lucky. This was the hall wherein Rosaline lived and studied, and while the presence of the Three B's had made it dangerous, she couldn't deny it was a wonderful place to be otherwise.
Approaching a side entrance, the pear-shaped young woman swiped an electronic card suspended in a lanyard around her neck and passed sideways through the door. She lived on the second floor, and so began her ascent as unpleasant flashes of the day's earlier events played out in her head. Her face twitched, and she pulled nervously at her lightly wavy blonde hair. Nope! She didn't want to think about that. She wanted to think about anything BUT that. Her mind returned to cozy exploration of the intricacies of how she'd write her paper, desperate to shove the intrusive memories back into the bubbling quagmire of the limbic system from whence they had dragged themselves. She reached the second floor and passed through the wide stairwell doorway without issue.
