Dinner with Andrea
FIRST, A WARNING....
Am I actually warning people not to read my own story? It's not that bad, IMHO. I've tried to tell a story with real characters and maybe a little humor. And of course since it's a weight-gain story there's a lot of description and eating, but I've also tried to show an extreme gain in a realistic manner. Okay, maybe not realistic; how about 'remotely possible'? Oh, and to top it off there's some mild, R-rated sex, too.
I would like to thank all the ladies who have posted pictures on the net, here and elsewhere. For descriptions in the story I spent hours carefully studying photos of the largest women I could find. All in the name of research, of course.
So why a warning? In Dinner With Andrea the title character throws herself eagerly into all sorts of things that seem to upset people: helplessness, sloth, and the worst diet imaginable! She's got a self-destructive twist, but she was really fun to write!
If this bothers you, DON'T READ THE STORY.
Remember, it's just a fantasy.
Awkwardly Marty unlocked the door, the handle loops of a half-dozen grocery bags slowly cutting off circulation in his fingers. He nudged open the door to the seedy mobile home and stepped inside, noticing Andrea wasn't in her usual place on the couch in front of the TV.
"Honey?" he called nervously.
"In here," came her voice from the bedroom. "Online."
"No problem; I'll get the rest of the groceries." As he brought in a second load he wished they had a nicer place. 'Andrea deserves better than this rat-hole,' he thought. 'No, rats have a higher standard of living.'
But he and Andrea were just college students, strapped for cash. There was tuition, books, and of course food. Lots of food. Two sets of parents didn't realize they were helping to finance this shabby love nest, but hopefully that could change soon.
It wasn't easy, and of course it took a lot to support a girl like Andrea. They did their best to stretch their parent's money, and Marty worked part time at a music store. Andrea did a bit of day trading, and unlike most people she actually made money at it. 'Putting our education to work,' Andrea called it. Both were seniors here at State, he in music and she in business.
"How was your day?" Andrea called from the bedroom as Marty entered with the third and final load of groceries.
"Fine; you?" She didn't answer, but he knew better than to interrupt Andrea while she was working. Marty put away the stuff he brought: big economy sized bags of rice, pasta, and staples like sugar and flour. 'Cheap food,' he thought as always. Oil and shortening; Andrea loved anything fried. A bag from the day-old bread store with a dozen boxes of snack cakes. Real butter, something Andrea refused to scrimp on.
When he finished he began to pace. He checked his pocket, then realized it was the third time and pulled his hand away. His eye feel on a wad of clothing on the floor: the dress Andrea had been wearing this morning when he dropped her off. He smiled as he picked it up; she worked at the computer wearing almost nothing, which made it hard to leave her alone. He folded it neatly and laid it down. It covered almost half the couch, but then, so did Andrea.
Finally Marty had to speak. "How did it go at the doctor?"
"Tell you in a second... just let me finish this buy. Done. Come help me up." Marty hurried to the bedroom, and sure enough there was Andrea, sitting in front of the computer wearing only her panties. As always, Marty felt his heart beat faster, he knees tremble, and a tightening in his loins.
Andrea was fat. Enormously fat. Her belly filled her lap and spilled off on both sides, reaching out to her knees, or at least to the fat folds where knees should be. Breasts the size of pillows lay stop her huge belly, and her hips spread so wide they almost covered the broad bench Marty had built for her.
She smiled as Marty looked her over, knowing exactly the reaction she inspired. Green eyes sparkled in a round face surrounded by blond hair. Her pink cheeks owed nothing to makeup and her double chin was merely part of a collar of fat sitting atop her rounded shoulders.
A well meaning girlfriend once offered a makeover 'to make your face slimmer.' Andrea had just smiled, saying she was happy with the face she had. Marty was happy too. No, not happy, ecstatic.
She held her arms out to Marty, stretching out pudgy hands outlined by fat folds at each wrist. As Marty bent down embrace her she put her hand on his chest and pushed him back gently. Up!" she demanded.
As he took her hands he noticed once again when Andrea raised her arms the masses of fat on her upper arms hung almost to her waist. Like wings, he had once thought. When he told her, she giggled and proclaimed "I can fly!" She flapped her arms, making all the fat jiggle crazily. After a couple of flaps she had stopped. "That's too much work," she had laughed. Since then, 'wings' was their private name for those huge dangling folds of fat.
"Ready?" she said. "One, two..." On "three" Marty pulled and Andrea heaved, slowly lifting her huge body into a standing position, then wrapped her huge arms around Marty. When she squeezed he could feel her belly pressing against his knees, her breasts flowing under both his arms. He embraced her as well. He had long ago given up on reaching around her, so he buried his hands in the deep rolls of fat on her sides and back.
"You give the softest hug in the world," he told her.
"Of course I do," she said matter-of-factly, then pulled his head down for a kiss; at five-two she only came to his chest. Bending down he also had to stretch far forward, leaning over her belly to reach her face. As they kissed he subtly worked his way to the side, preparing to pull her down atop him on the bed. He loved to feel her vast weight pressing down on him, and she seemed to like it even more than he. "I'm so fat!" she would brag. "I cover you completely!" Indeed, her hips were so wide and the flesh so soft that she flowed down around him and touched the bed on both sides. This always led to lovemaking, and this might be the perfect time...
This was a favorite game, and she always pretended to be surprised. This time, though, she had other plans. "I want to go out... we need to celebrate!"
"What? Why?" Marty had a celebration of his own in mind as well... but what was this?
"We just made three thousand bucks!" she told him. "I bought at fifty-nine, held a week, and sold at ninety-six. Then I... never mind. We made three thousand. I reinvested some, added twenty-two hundred to my liquid fund and pulled out eight hundred for us to live on, so maybe we can get some decent food around this place." Marty was stung; he knew the food was plain, but... then he saw her huge grin as she said, "You're starving me!"
"Right... you're just wasting away." He patted her huge belly.
"You said it. All I had for lunch today was salad. Hand me my bra."
That didn't sound like Andrea; she usually didn't have fresh fruit or vegetables. "What salad?"
"Potato salad, of course. You made it yesterday, remember? It was good! You put in the extra mayo like I asked. Yum!" Marty glanced over past the computer, and sure enough, there was the gallon tub he had filled the day before.
"You ate it all?" he said. It was still hard to believe how much Andrea ate these days. As always, her huge appetite turned him on, though he worried about the kind of stuff she liked most.
"Well, yes, but it took all afternoon." She leaned far forward, working her huge soft breasts into the bra. When she did her belly hung below her knees.
"Also cookies and chips," he said, spying the wrappers.
"That was AFTER lunch," she protested. "I know you keep worrying about the stuff I eat, so all I had for lunch was a salad. Then, for being such a good little girl, I had a few cookies and chips." For Andrea, 'a few' meant 'only one bag'. "Double stuff cookies, mmm.... did you know that filling is just sugar and lard?"
"I think I've heard someone say that before."
"It was probably me," Andrea said brightly. Why did eating crap like that get Andrea so hot? Marty wondered. Why does it do the same thing to me?
"Where's my dress?"
"Living room." She took a ponderous step forward.
"You know, this bra is getting kind of tight," she said. "When I go online tonight I'll order a couple the next size up. No use getting more than that." The way she gained her clothes were always in good shape when she outgrew them.
"Why do you wear a bra, anyway?" Marty asked impulsively. "I mean, they don't really hold you up..." No mere construction of cloth could hold up breasts the size and weight of Andrea's.
"They do too!" she protested. "Without it my boobs would hang down to my navel... and it keeps me from bouncing."
"You bounce anyway," Marty told her. As Andrea waddled along, everything moved. With each step her knees pushed against her dangling belly from behind, setting it in motion. Her massive butt churned from side to side, the folds of fat on her legs wobbled, and yes, her breasts bobbed in independent motion.
"Well, yes," she agreed, "but it's just sort of 'slosh, slosh,' not 'jiggle-jiggle-jiggle-jiggle.' And people don't point and say 'Hey look! That huge fat girl's going braless..."
Hearing the pause in her voice Marty turned and looked at Andrea's face. When he saw the smile and evil gleam in her eye he knew what she was planning. She loved showing off her fat and loved to shock people. In warm weather she wore obscenely short shorts. All year round she squeezed into outgrown t-shirts that didn't come close to covering all of her or skintight pants that fit like a sausage skin. Now she had a new idea; how long would it be until she tried it out? She wasn't like this all the time, thank goodness, but ever so often the mood would strike... like today. What was she going to do tonight?
"So what did the doctor say?" Marty asked again, hoping to distract her. He opened the door and headed out to the car.
"He said...YES!" she announced with a grin. She held up a blue rectangle inscribed with a familiar symbol. "I'm officially handicapped! No more dropping me off and then hunting a space, no more walking miles across every parking lot. I'm not built for that!"
"And what was your handicap?" Marty asked as he held the door of the elderly Toyota. As she lowered herself into the seat the springs sagged as they took her weight.
"Shortness of breath. EXTREME shortness of breath." That was true; her pink cheeks were flushed and she was breathing heavily just from walking out to the car.
"That's all it took?"
"Well, there's that old knee injury, too." Marty snorted; she had told him that story years ago. As a chubby little ninth grader Andrea was hit with a softball. Despite the bruise on her thigh she convinced a gullible doctor her knee had sustained major damage. No Phys Ed for Andrea! Actually she was fine, though the injury had a habit of flaring up when anyone mentioned athletics, exercise, or even a long walk. At least the shortness of breath was real.
"And how were you otherwise?" Did the doctor say anything about, uh..."
"Anything about me being the fattest person he's probably ever seen? Of course he did. It was the usual scare tactics: heart problems, diabeties, which does NOT run in my family, yada, yada, yada... Oh, and I'm supposed diet, eat healthy, work out, and lose weight. The same old same old." She laughed merrily.
"So did they weigh you?"
"That was going to be part of the surprise. It was five sixty-one! I've gained FOUR HUNDRED POUNDS since we met!"
"Wow is right! Isn't it incredible? I got so horny I started eating as soon as I got home and didn't stop until you got there." She hugged herself, squeezing her breasts up to touch her chin.
"What did they say about how much you've gained?"
Again she laughed. "The records from a couple of years ago said I was three twenty-nine, but that was obviously a mistake. After all, no one gains over two hundred pounds in two years, do they?"
"Oh, just a touch of high blood pressure. They gave me pills."
Marty swallowed hard. "Andrea..." he said, his voice serious.
"Don't you start! Daddy has taken pills for years and years, and he's fine. Look, I promise I'll be good and take my medicine every day, okay? As long as it's not the diuretic kind... I've gotta check. Those might cause headaches or something." At least that's what the doctor would hear until he changed it.
"I'll make sure you take them."
"So where are we going?" Marty asked. "Someplace special, I hope. How about Angelo's?" A wonderful Italian place, Angelo's was usually out of their price range. Naturally it was a buffet; feeding Andrea off a menu was ridiculously expensive.
"No. I want..." She licked her lips as if trying to taste what she was hungry for. "I want to eat BAD tonight. Really, really bad!" To Andrea 'eating bad' meant a doctor's nightmare: fat, sugar, salt, and everything greasy and fried. "I know... the Dry Dock!" Another buffet, of course, with all kinds of seafood. It was the perfect place for Andrea to 'eat bad.'
"Sure." As he drove Marty thought back to the first time he had eaten out with Andrea, the day they met three and a half years ago. It was their very first day of college, and it ended with an evening class. For an hour the professor droned about the Middle Ages, but Marty couldn't keep his eyes off a cute girl two rows in front of him. She was blond, more than just a little chubby, and really, really cute. Her shorts revealed plump legs and her t-shirt did little to conceal full, rounded breasts. 'I'll dream about her tonight,' he thought.
When the class finally ended he watched as she walked away; Her legs jiggled, her hips swayed, and her breasts bounced just a little as she walked...
'Would she would go out with me?' Marty wondered. A moment later he found himself following her, then walking alongside. Then, to his horror, his mouth opened and spoke all by itself!
"Man! I'm gonna have to get used to these night classes," he blurted. Well, that was safe.
"Yeah... Everything is different in college, I guess." She stopped. "This is my dorm; I guess I'll see you Wednesday." She smiled at him. "I'm Andrea."
And then his mouth flew open again, and this time it said "wait... how would you like to go for a pizza?"
And Andrea said "sure!" and off they went. Marty didn't remember what they talked about, but he remembered trying to watch her eat without being obvious. He was finishing his second piece of pizza as she reached for her fourth.
"Good pizza," he remarked. She jerked her hand back, then reached again, picked up the slice, and took a bite.
"I'm being a pig, I know," she said.
"No, no!" And silently he added, 'Eat some more!'
"You know, I think I've been on some diet or other for the past six or seven years." Marty's heart sank. Betty, his girlfriend in high school, dieted constantly. Marty told her he liked her just as she was but she refused to take the point.
And Andrea went on. "You know, this is the skinniest I've been since I got to high school."
"You look great," Marty said dutifully; when girls said they've lost weight that's what they want to hear. "I sure hope you don't lose any more!" What was he saying?!
"Really? Tell that to my mom; she still thinks I'm fat." She grinned mischievously. "But now I'm off at college and mom's four hours away, and I'm going to eat whatever I want, as much as I want, and enjoy it. So I'm going to eat this piece, and I may even have another one after that!"
"Hey, that's great. Enjoy yourself!" Marty said with far more enthusiasm. They talked of other things too, and found they enjoyed each other's company. They met again and again, and soon they were dating. One thing led to another, and in a few weeks they were seeing each other almost every day... and almost ever night.
What a change! After dating half a year Betty had relaxed enough to tolerate very limited cuddling, though she never really enjoyed it. Andrea, on the other hand, wanted to be touched constantly: rubbed, stroked, fondled, kissed, anywhere and everywhere.
Betty had been much larger than Andrea, and usually that would have meant Marty found her more attractive. Of course he liked Andrea a lot more, too, but there was another difference. Betty was was round, smooth, and firm. In contrast, Andrea was soft, soft, jiggly bouncy squishy soft, with all sorts of interesting little folds and bulges.
One day, six or seven weeks after they had met, he was visiting her dorm, waiting for her to change clothes to go out, when she remarked "Whoa! these don't fit anymore, do they?"
"The shorts. These are the ones I was wearing the first day I met you. They fit fine they, and just look at them now!"
Sure enough, they were tight across her rounded tummy and butt, and a roll of fat bulged over the waistband. "They look great to me!"
"Oh yeah, you like all this fat, don't you?"
"Uh..." Say no and insult her? Say yes and sound like a pervert? "You're not fat, honey..."
"Get real!" She pulled down her shorts and panties too, showing Marty her soft round tummy. "This is FAT, and you like it, even if you won't admit it out loud." And she was GRINNING! "Come on, Marty, it's so obvious! Yeah, you play with my boobs and my ass, and any guy might do that. But if you don't like fat why do you knead my tummy like a cat, huh? Or lick my belly fold? Or jiggle the little rolls on my back? Admit it!"
"Okay," Marty had laughed. "I love your fat! It turns me on."
"And you love to watch me eat, too, don't you? You try to hide it, but I see you watching. And all your dates involve food. 'Let's grab some burgers.' 'How about some ice cream?' 'Here, have the rest of mine.' 'Want some candy for the movie?' I know what you are doing... you're trying to fatten me up!"
"I hadn't realized it was quite so obvious."
"Hmph! It's a good thing I enjoy it, or I would be really, really mad at you." She punched him gently on the arm. "That's for trying to trick me. Why don't you just come out and ask me to get fatter?"
"Well, I was afraid you would think..."
"Ahem!" She raised her voice. "I SAID, why don't you just come out and ask me to get fatter?"
"Huh? Oh! Andrea, I love watching you eat, and it turns me on to see you gain weight... would you get fatter for me?"
"Hmph! Took you long enough." Then Andrea smiled at him. "I like eating, I like turning you on, I figure I'm gonna get fatter anyway, so sure! It sounds like fun."
It was fun, and not just for Marty. Andrea loved expanding figure, often called Marty's attention to outgrown clothes and new curves.
"I have to get up past two hundred by Christmas break," she said. "I'm one eighty-one now, up from one sixty the day we met. The fattest I've ever been was one eighty-nine, and I want to see the look on Mom's face when I sit my fat ass down for Christmas dinner... and tell her I'm over two hundred!" She had thrown herself into the effort, snacking every evening, carrying candy bars in her purse, and desserts at every meal. She made it, too, and didn't slack off after returning from the holiday break.
And that was just the beginning. Andrea grew fatter and fatter, and her appetite grew as well. Over the last three years her attitude had changed as well. At first she had enjoyed the freedom to eat whatever she liked, as much as she wanted. Then she began to deliberately overeat, stuffing herself past the point of being full. At first, getting fatter was simply a side effect of her love of food, but then she became almost as excited by her gain as Marty.
Her appetite wasn't the only thing that changed. Andrea was always sedentary; her favorite activities, after sex and eating, were reading, TV, and surfing the net. As she grew she became lazier, slower, and ever more out of shape. She didn't mind; instead, it became one more thing she loved about gaining. At first Marty thought that was strange but he soon came to share her excitement.
That made him fell a bit guilty, though. Getting turned on because a girl was fat and getting fatter, that was okay. Getting horny because she was really out of shape? Somehow that just seemed wrong, even if it did excite him. Andrea didn't see it that way. She loved to tell him how quickly she got tired and how difficult even everyday tasks had become. It turned her on, it turned him on, and for her that made everything fine.
"You sure are quiet tonight," she said, pulling him back to the present.
"Oh? What about."
"Oh... that's all right then. Continue."
Money soon became a problem; it was expensive to keep Andrea fed! And she kept outgrowing clothes. It was time for serious consideration. Were they willing to make sacrifices? Of course! Marty took a part time job at a music store and they scrimped on everything except food. Neither minded; fattening up Andrea became the center of both of their lives. After a year and a half Andrea, the business major, pointed out they could actually save money by living together rather then renting two dorm rooms, and they saved even more by living in that crappy trailer. Here they could be together, and here they could cook the huge meals it now took to keep Andrea full.
Then, after they moved in, she revealed what must have been her true motivation for the move. "Now you're going to wait on me, and take care of me, and make sure I never have to lift a finger."
"You heard me. I've gained all this weight for you; you should do this for me, right? I mean, look how fat I am!" Marty looked and she wriggled, making her fat shake like jello. At that point she was already over three hundred pounds, with a huge sagging belly and rolls and folds everywhere.
"See? I'm not going to wear myself out doing cleaning, laundry, cooking... well, I'll probably cook. But all the rest is yours, okay?" With this abdication of even everyday tasks she became more and more out of shape, indeed, almost helpless. Today as a result of sloth and over two hundred new pounds Andrea needed help to do almost everything: putting on socks and shoes, picking up things she dropped, drying off after a shower.
She couldn't fit behind the steering wheel of her own car; she couldn't even masturbate. Her arms didn't come close to reaching around that immense ball of belly fat. Not that she minded; to her it was just another turn on. Once Marty had come home and she almost attacked him and dragged him to bed; later he found she had tried to pleasure herself, found herself unable, and had spent an hour becoming ever more frustrated and aroused.
Even her tastes in food had changed. No, not her tastes, but her attitude toward food. At first she simply ate whatever she liked. Of course, the things she liked were sweets, fast food, and anything fried. She also loved junk food snacks. "It's all the stuff I wasn't allowed to have when I was a kid," she explained.
Then as she seriously got into gaining she began to choose foods based on how fattening they were, not just taste. That wasn't much of a sacrifice; most of her favorite foods were pretty fattening already. And now? She was into 'eating bad,' as she called it. Now she took delight in eating all the wrong foods: lard instead of vegetable shortening, butter instead of margarine. She salted everything, and constantly gobbled sugary snacks.
This worried Marty, though he had to admit it was yet another guilty turn-on. When he mentioned his worries to her, she laughed. "I've gained almost three hundred fifty pounds, and NOW I'm going to start worrying? Get real!" Another time she said "But I do eat healthy stuff. See?" She held up a bag of candy, empty of course, and pointed to the label: 'A Fat Free Snack.'
"But that's just a pound of pure sugar," he said.
"I KNEW it was good!"
The sight of the restaurant brought Marty back to the present. He pulled up next to the door, in a handicapped spot. Privately he resolved never to take the last handicapped space no matter what Andrea said, but tonight there were a dozen spaces empty.
As Andrea made her ponderous way to the door Marty held back a moment, watching the fantastic view as she walked away. The thin material of the dress, softly stretched over her huge butt, did absolutely nothing to conceal the marvelous motions created with every step. What an incredible girl! She had fulfilled every fat fantasy he had ever dreamed of and thought up a lot of new ones herself, but that wasn't all.
She was patient, kind, honest, reasonable... the list of her virtues went on and on. She was funny. Everyone she met liked her instantly. And she was so smart! Marty thought himself fairly bright, but in every conversation with Andrea he was always half a step behind, and she even had the knack of making that a pleasant experience. For Marty the only question was 'why is she interested in ME?' Never mind; he loved her and for some reason she seemed to love him just as much, and that was enough. Once more he reached into his pocket and this time took out the ring; tonight he was asking Andrea to marry him.
As the waitress led them to their seats Marty reflected that the murmur of happy diners would afford privacy, and the place was big enough that probably no one would notice how much Andrea ate.
"Remember that Chinese place?" he whispered to Andrea. The tiny restaurant had served delicious food at low prices and quickly became their weekly favorite ... until the manager pointed to an new addition on their price list: below the words 'All you can eat' had been penciled 'Two plate limit'. Andrea and Marty both knew the reason for the change. That was the last time they ate there.
"Hmph," Andrea had said as they left. "If they meant 'Enough food to satisfy the common appetite' they should have said that in the first place."
"No," Marty answered, "they should have said, 'All anyone except Andrea can eat." She laughed.
They had to detour a couple of times; Andrea's hips were too wide to pass between some of the tables. Their waitress, oblivious, stopped and waved them to a booth. Andrea stood, breathing heavily, and looked pointedly at the fixed table and bench. "Excuse me," Andrea said sweetly. "Do you really expect ME to fit THERE?"
The waitress, confronted by something beyond the routine, looked at Andrea's immense belly, then the narrow booth. Desperately she looked around for a solution.
"How about a table?" Marty suggested. Andrea could have asked for a table in the first place, but tonight was in the mood to tease people.
Once they were seated the waitress brought coke for Marty and tea for Andrea, who promptly added enough sugar to create an inch of white sludge at the bottom of the glass. "That's the best part," she said.
Although Marty was willing to fetch Andrea's food, she insisted on going through the buffet line herself after she caught her breath. From experience, Marty knew this wasn't Andrea's dinner, it was a mere sampler so she could pick her favorites for seconds or thirds. She piled on more and more: fried seafood, seafood in thick creamy sauces, anything and everything. As she moved through the line the food on her plate became a precarious tower. And at the end of the line... "Ooo, look!"
"Melted butter! Marty, get a cup. No, not that dinky little plastic thing, a real cup, from over by the soup. Yeah... fill it up! Yeah!"
Butter went with everything, it seemed. She didn't have the crab legs, 'takes too long,' but she had fried shrimp dipped in butter, hushpuppies soaked with butter, you name it! "I love it!" she said. "This is just so, so BAD." It was clear she enjoyed eating this way; he could see her nipples though the thin material of her dress.
Before Marty had finished half his food she sent him back for seconds, and a few minutes later thirds. As he returned with a plate piled full of gooey, creamy casserole, more fried seafood, and of course more butter, someone spoke to him.
"Sir?" As a college senior Marty wasn't used to the title, but the speaker was just a kid, a gangly boy of perhaps fifteen. "Sir, will she really eat all of that?" A glance showed he was looking at Andrea.
"I'm sorry sir, really I am, and I know it's none of my business, but I just had to ask. She's just so incredible!"
The look on his face was unmistakable... this was a junior fat girl lover! "Yes, she is incredible," Marty said, "And yeah, she'll eat all this and more."
"Wow! Maybe someday..." The kid took another long look at Andrea and swallowed hard. "Thank you sir!"
Back at the table Marty told Andrea about his encounter, and pointed the boy out. "I know who he's going to dream about tonight," Marty told her.
Andrea turned, caught his eye, and smiled at the lad. Embarrassed, he jerked his head away, then turned back, grinning. "Maybe I should go over and give him a kiss," she offered.
"Don't you dare," said Marty sternly. "That has to be his family, and I would say the odds about one in a million they know he likes fat girls."
"We've been together for three years and MY folks don't know... or at least I've never come out and said anything."
"Really?" she said again.
"Yeah, they think I love you because you're such a wonderful person. My mom thinks it's all noble and romantic that I love you in spite of your weight problem."
"Gee... maybe if I were really bitchy they would figure it out? No, I like your folks too much for that... and I don't want them to know their son is a sexual deviant."
"That's for not letting me kiss my hot young stud over there."
"But I don't want you kissing other guys. In fact, I wanted to give you this." He took the ring from his pocket. "Andrea, will you marry me?"
Andrea was speechless. For the past year there had been a tacet agreement that they would get married sometime, after graduation, after they had achieved some sort of financial stability. Sometime.
"But... How can we... we can't afford..."
"Starting today I'm a full time employee at the music store... same schedule as now, so I can still take classes. I'll put in the extra hours at night or weekends in the repair shop. More hours, and half again my hourly rate! Best of all, the boss says after graduation he wants to try me as assistant manager."
Andrea considered. "You're right, that will work out." She squeezed his hand, grinning. "Maybe June... wait, did I give you an answer yet?"
"Not yet; I'm hoping for yes." For once Marty was a step ahead in the conversation; he savored the rare experience.
"Yes. Yes! Oh, yes! You're the most wonderful man in the world, Marty. Now could you get me some more food?"
Marty was finished but Andrea was still eating, not even slowing down. Marty wondered if a fiancÚ would have more influence than a long-term boyfriend? She had discovered pastry rolls with a rich crab and cream filling and was eating one after another. As she picked one up Marty said "Andrea, you know you can't just keep eating like this."
"Sure I can; there's lots of room left in here!" She patted her belly and smiled.
"You know what I mean. I worry about you."
"I know you do," she said. She squeezed his hand aain. "But it's okay; I can quit any time I want. Nothing but carrot sticks and mineral water until my tummy's flat as a board! Want to bet I couldn't do it, starting right now?" She started to pop the roll into her mouth, realized what she was doing, and set it down on her napkin. "Well? What do you say?"
"Uh..." Was she serious? Did she really mean to quit gaining? It was so exciting for both of them, but he really did worry about her health. And what should he say? Knowing she SHOULD stop wasn't the same thing at all as WANTING her to stop!
"Just say the word," she told him. "But there's one thing: You have to tell me you don't get INCREDIBLY excited by my body and the way I eat. If you can honestly stay that, I'll stop."
Marty felt a wave of relief wash over him. NO DIET! "I can't say that; you know it turns me on."
"And I glad so glad of that!" She popped the crab roll in her mouth whole. When she could speak, just to spite him she sent Marty back for yet anther plate, though she hadn't finished this one yet.
Halfway though that fourth plateful, Marty noticed an odd expression on her face. "I'm full. I'm over-full. Oh, I'm really stretching my stomach this time."
"So why are you still eating?"
"I have to," she said plaintively. "There's still food left." She looked longingly at the buffet.
"Andrea, even you can't eat it ALL."
"But I have to TRY... Okay, I'll start on dessert, just as soon as I finish this. I want a plate of baklava and a big bowl of that pudding stuff with the raisins."
Marty had tried the baklava, flaky pastry filled with nuts and soaked in honey, and found it far to sweet. Andrea plowed in, but soon slowed down. "It's starting to hurt." She ate another, then one more. "Oh, I love it when it feels like this!"
But on the the last few pieces she was clearly forcing each bite down. Then she stared a long time at the pudding, finally pushing it away. "I can't. Not another bite."
Marty grinned. "Not even if it's... pecan pie?" He reached over to the chair to his left and pulled out a saucer with a huge slice of pie and set it in front of Andrea. That was her favorite; he was proud of himself for keeping it out of her sight.
"Why do you do this to me?" Andrea pleaded, then bit her lip. She took a bite, then another. 'Good question,' Marty asked himself. 'I worry about the way she eats, then I tempt her to stuff herself even more. I shouldn't be like that.' But he knew from experience she loved it as much as he.
She actually ate over half, but then said, "No way. If I try, everything's going to come up. Help me up."
Marty braced himself and pulled with both hands, and Andrea struggled to her feet. "Ooh..." She clutched at her belly.
Leaning close, Marty whispered, "Look out folks, she's gonna blow!" Crude, yes, but it was Andrea who told it to him two years ago, and it had become a ritual with them when they ate out.
"If I do, it's going all over you."
They made it to the car without mishap. On the trip home Andrea reclined her seat and rubbed her stomach, trying to ease the pressure. She didn't rub at the soft belly that more than filled her lap, though she loved to touch that too, but at her poor abused stomach. The stomach is located at the base of the rib cage, and Andrea's huge pendulous breasts covered the area. As she massaged under and around them they quivered; even Andrea wasn't daring enough to do this in a restaurant. To Marty the display was totally erotic, making it hard to concentrate on his driving.
The whole way she moaned softly in both pleasure and pain, repeating things like "I'm so full!" "Oh, it hurts," and "God, I'm so horny!"
'She must really be stuffed this time,' he thought. Most of the time she asked to stop for ice cream or doughnuts or something.
At home Andrea managed to waddle to the bedroom; this was especially in her overstuffed condition.
"You're going to have to undress me," she ordered. "I'm not going to even think about bending over tonight."
Marty unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. "Undies?"
"You know the effect is has on me when I eat like that... I'm so horny I can't stand it! Are you saying it didn't do that to you too?"
"Undies too, then."
She eased down on the bed, kicked off her shoes, then said, "I think I would feel better on my side; help me roll over." She could do that herself, but it was easier with help... and Andrea enjoyed having Marty help.
Marty marveled at the size of Andrea's belly stretched out in front of her on the bed. Gravity certainly did interesting things! But... "Hey! How are we supposed to do it with you lying like that?"
"Do it?" Andrea said scornfully. "Is that all you are interested in, the mere mechanics of intercourse?"
"What else is there? You spread 'em, I jump on top and we get nasty!" Of course Marty had no intention of doing that; some variation of this discussion took place every time they made love. Although the two had a rich and exciting sex life they hadn't been able to do the 'mechanics of intercourse' in over a year. Even at four hundred pounds Andrea's huge belly and thighs made penetration difficult. Marty would freely admit his endowment was at most average, and Andrea would almost boast that she wasn't strong or flexible enough to attempt exotic positions. Instead they had found other ways to make love they found even more exciting.
"What else is there? There's love, romance, passion, fantasy... I'm a fantasy kind of girl."
"You're my fantasy." She was, and far more.
"I AM a fantasy. Yours, that kid's, I'm even MY fantasy."
Marty ran his hands over her body. At the gentlest touch his fingers sank deeply into the her flesh. "Oh, Andrea, you're so soft..."
He kissed her, starting at her neck, moving down her back, across one huge buttock and down the back of her leg, ending in the deep fold at the knee.
"Oh, honey, tell me how fat I am!"
"You're huge, Andrea! Five hundred and sixty pounds; touch your belly and see how fat it is."
She stretched her arm out. "Oh... I can barely reach my own navel."
"Your chin is buried between your breasts, you have rolls of fat at you ankles, at your wrists..."
"Around my neck, on my arms, on my thighs..."
"You said you had gained four hundred pounds since we met..."
"Remember that chubby little girl you used to be? That body is still inside you, you know..." While he spoke he moved around front and kissed her belly, burying his face in her immense belly. "...except now she's inside all this fat."
"Covered," Andrea said.
"Trapped, and she loves it!"
Marty began to work his hand gently into the deep, deep fold below her belly, working between the soft fat of her belly and thighs, seeking the warm wetness he knew was there.
"Not yet... tell me how out of shape I am. How helpless."
"You're so fat you can hardly walk."
"This afternoon, just walking form the bedroom to the car had you out of breath."
"Huffing and puffing," she agreed.
"Let me show you," Marty said, leaning close. He kissed her lips, seeking her tongue with his. The kiss went on and on until she broke away, gasping for air. This was the most exercise she ever got and she was already breathing hard. With her mouth pleasurably blocked she just couldn't take in enough air to supply her vast body.
"Just listen to me!" she said proudly, body heaving and shaking as she panted, trying to catch her breath.
"And you're so lazy! All you do, just about all you CAN do, is sit around and eat." As he talked he ran his fingers inside her, sliding and stroking.
"I can do all sorts of things," she disagreed, "as long I can do them sitting down and eating at the same time."
"You can't even drive your own car."
"Too much belly," she agreed, rubbing it and kneading the fat.
"You never get any exercise at all; you do as little as possible..."
"And the fatter you get the less you do, and your muscles are turning to mush..."
"OH! Tell me what a bad girl I am, eating the way I do."
"The dinner you had tonight would probably have fed four or five other people. Along with all that potato salad, cookies..."
"and a pizza for my first lunch, before the potato salad. Just a medium, though."
"If someone made a list of all the 'bad' foods, that's your menu."
"All that fat, all that butter..."
"Hushpuppies soaked in butter... Ooh! And I must have eaten dozens."
"And you're still stuffed, aren't you?" Marty asked, a devious gleam in his eye.
"You know I am... I ate so much!" Suddenly she realized what Marty had planned. "No! I can't hold anything else, Marty! Don't you dare make me eat more!"
"Oh, I wouldn't try to MAKE you," he said calmly, reaching down beside the bed. "I'm just going to set these right here..." It was a huge bag of after dinner mints, soft lumps of pure sugar.
He opened the bag and set them within Andrea's easy reach. "You don't have to eat any if you don't want them," he told her.
"You bastard," she said, smiling. "You know I have to!" She took a handful of the candies and began dropping them in her mouth one by one.
"Really?" Was that true? Marty had no idea. When he met Andrea she ate what she wanted and stopped when she was full. Over the past few years, though, she had taken to stuffing herself more and more, and today claimed to be addicted to food, unable to control herself. Marty suspected it was true because she wanted it to be; she knew how it excited both of them. In any event he had chosen candies that would quickly melt away to nothing and not add to the bulk in her stomach.
Marty returned his attention to Andrea's body, nibbling an earlobe as he tickled inside her with one hand and rubbed her belly with another."
"You're SO BAD... and I can't even talk with you about it because every time I do you get all excited, and that gets me excited too."
"We're a perfect match."
"You're crazy, Andrea... you're self destructive, you're smart, you know better, and you're doing all this anyway."
"Yeah; I've done all this to myself!" She grabbed handfuls of fat and jiggled herself, setting her whole body in motion.
"Just imagine if that doctor you saw today were there at the restaurant and saw you eat."
"Oh... That did it; let me turn over!"
Andrea gave a great heave but it wasn't enough. She tried again, sending fatquakes running across herself as she rolled her mountainous body over so she lay on her back. Responding to gravity the entire shape of her body changed. Her butt and hips flowed outward, spreading almost twice as wide as they were when she lay on her side. Her breasts flowed off her chest, resting on her arms and shoulders, stretching up beside her head on both sides. Her legs and arms flattened and became wider as well. Her legs moved; taking his cue Marty pulled each leg, helping her spread her thighs as wide as possible.
"That doctor," she said, "looked like he ran five miles a day and had fat-free whole grain fiber flakes for breakfast." Marty kissed Andrea's breast, nibbling on a nipple, probably the firmest part of her body. As she spoke he moved slowly moved down between her breasts. "He said I was morbidly obese... isn't that incredible? Not just plain obese, but 'morbidly'... Ooh! He went on and on and I just nodded at everything. I even told him I was going to do something about my weight. And it's true, isn't it? If he had seen me tonight HE would be the one having a heart attack!"
Marty moved from kissing her breasts to her upper belly, stroking her arms, her sides, her neck with his hands. As he did, Andrea continued, "You're right; this is crazy what I'm doing to myself, isn't it? And it's so exciting! I want to get fatter and fatter, more and more helpless... oh, move lower, Marty!" As she paused to drop more candies in her mouth Marty began to kiss the deep, incredible softness of her belly.
"Oh, I just want to eat more and more! I can't stop; I never want to stop. Look; I'm STILL eating. I was so BAD tonight, wasn't I? But that's okay; all those rules about health and fat and cholesterol just don't apply to me! Once you get past say five hundred pounds none of that matters; it just doesn't count!" Using both hands to push back the round pillow of belly fat that lay on her thighs Marty began to kiss the underside of her soft belly apron.
"Oh, lower! C'mon!" She stuffed another handful on candy into her mouth, then went on "Fatter, fatter... how big can I get?" She spread her hands wide, indicating an extra foot on either side of her unbelievably wide hips. "I've gotta do it! Lower, Marty! Damn it, you're taking forever!" Marty, who had been deliberately taking his time, finally moved down, Lifting the soft mass of her belly and burying his face at the base of her pubic triangle. "Oh, YES," she cried.
"I want to eat, and eat... like tonight every night! MORE than tonight! If I keep doing this, how much will I be able to hold? I have to find out!" She ate another handful of mints, reached for another, and found the bag empty. "Was that a whole pound?" She looked on the bag. "TWO? Oh, wow..."
"I'm gonna get so fat! So fat I can't move; I'm not that far from that now. Oh, Marty, that feels so GOOD! So heavy..." She began to stroke her own body, kneading her breasts, rubbing her belly, grabbing handfulls of fat from her sides. "I can feel the weight of all this fat, holding me down... You're right, it's crazy... I love it! So fat... so bad... OH! Oh! Oh, Marty..."
"I'm about to explode!" Marty told her.
"Turn around." Marty scrambled to a new position. Andrea opened her mouth, but as she stroked him and took him in her hand to touch was too much and it was impossible for him to hold back any longer.
"Aw..." she said, grinning.
They fell asleep cuddled together, warm and contented.
Hours later nature called; Andrea simply had to use the restroom. Entwined as they were she couldn't move without disturbing Marty. Actually, at her size almost any movement shook the bed enough to wake her lover. Marty, used to this, waited for her return. When she did, she sat down on the bed.
"Marty?" she said seriously. "I want to tell you how much I love you. And one thing I need to say now, when we're not horny." She took his hand and squeezed it. "I know you worry about me, and that's one of the sweetest things about you: the fact that it turns you on so much and you still care about me enough to try to get me to stop. When you try I know you care more about ME than you care about the way my fat turns you on." Marty, still half asleep, blinked at Andrea and tried to focus on her pretty round face. She was saying something important, and he wanted to be able to follow it.
"I want you to know something: I realize I can't go on eating like this, gaining this way forever. Sometime I'm going to have to stop. But you know what? I'm going to go just as far as I possibly can. And until then, I want you to remember this is something I LOVE doing, and I'm doing it because I love it. You're not making me eat, or get fatter; it's all me. All you have to do is help me, and enjoy it just as much as I do." By now Marty was awake enough to smile, but he didn't trust himself to speak. Instead he took her hand again and kissed it, then tried to pull her back to bed.
"Not right now; I want to check on something." Marty wasn't upset; he slumped back to the bed as was asleep in moments. After a time... one minute? Ten?... he opened his eyes to see her at the computer.
"Come here," she said, and something in her voice made him sit up. "Read this to me."
"Huh?" He stared blearily at a screen full of stock quotes and tried to focus where she pointed. "It looks like fifty-eight bucks. So?"
"I caught this rumor, and I checked to see who else was buying. It was a nothing company, but I decided to take a shot. Two hundred bucks."
Marty managed to wring a thought from his groggy mind. "That's what, four shares?" Marty slumped back toward the bed.
Andrea laughed. "When I did the buy it was four cents a share!"
"Uh..." Marty was too sleepy to make the the connection. "So you made money?"
"Just a sec, I'm selling... This is Tokyo... And we just made... over a quarter of a million dollars!"
Finally Marty was shocked fully awake and moved to sit next to her. "A quarter of a million?"
"More, actually. It means a NICE wedding, a real house, a decent car, money to invest! Oh, Marty!" She hugged him, squeezing him close, molding her soft body to his. "You know what this means? Don't you? Tonight we have to go out and celebrate. And Marty, tonight I want to be BAD."
If you liked the story, if you have comments (other than sheer hate-mail) I would be glad to hear from you. Any woman who recognizes herself in Andrea, either in reality or fatasy, I would love to hear this!
Mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org