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The New Boss
By Ned Fox

I had been working for General Snack Foods since I graduated from college six years ago. It was a nice place to work, with good people, working conditions and pay. I was in the quality assurance lab. My job and that of my co-workers was to be sure our products looked and tasted their best.

We did some taste testing, lab analysis of ingredients, temperature checks and checked the production line for any irregularities. It was a pleasant, low-stress working environment. We only did taste testing once or twice a month, depending on when a new batch or lot was started up. We did only a small spot sample. That was about to change, however.

The company's products had not been selling well for the last two quarters. Management thought it was our advertising campaign had not been up to par. They hired a marketing outfit to run consumer tests and see where the problem lay.

The shocker came back that our product line did not taste nearly as good as the competitions did! The news sent shock waves through the company. The test kitchen was put on overtime to check recipes, ingredients and processing. They found that the problem lay in production. Some products were being baked or fried way too long, or the ingredient mix got messed up. Our department was receiving most of the blame for not catching the problem earlier.

The company forced our old boss to retire. They went and hired the guru of quality assurance out of retirement to rebuild our company's reputation.

He started the following week. Mr. Faber had been the head of quality assurance for our largest competitor. He retired a couple of years ago, even though he was only in his early fifties. It was rumored that it was his wife's idea for him to retire. We could not figure why he was coming back into the business.

When I met Mr. Faber, I was stunned - he was huge! He must have weighed over three hundred pounds and was only about 5'7” tall. He looked like he had been fat most of his life. His clothes fit him well, and he carried himself well also, though he did waddle due to his weight. He joked about his weight and did not seem self conscious about it.

He laid out our new game plan to everyone. He believed in a process of constant sampling of all of our products, not only for temperature but also taste, texture and appearance. He expected us to be constantly sampling all day; we were to eat samples from every package brought to us. Most of us were stunned. We did have a few people in the department who had gained weight with the easy access to plenty of snacks all day long. Most of us had learned not to get carried away overeating and had managed to maintain our weight.

Mr. Faber said he expected us all to gain weight. It was side effect of keeping constant watch on quality. We were all stunned. The women in our dept. were especially upset, wondering what their husbands and boy friends would think if they gained weight. I wondered how my wife would react if I gained also.

The very next morning, large trays of samples were brought to everyone's cubicle to sample. We were expected to eat everything! Mr. Faber did not believe in just tasting and spitting out the remainder. He said we expect our customers to eat our product, then we should eat it, too.

We all reluctantly dug into to our sample trays. I had cheese snacks at eight-thirty, then chocolate crackers at ten and potato chips at eleven-thirty. By noon I felt that I would explode. I had undone my pants and belt and wore my lab coat to cover up.

My co-worker across the hall was having as much trouble as me. She had worn a loose fitting sundress that morning, but by now it was straining to keep her covered. She glanced at me and just patted her bloated belly. I nodded and did the same.

Just then Mr. Faber called a luncheon meeting in the conference room, with a catered lunch and all! We all staggered in. He too looked bloated, but seemed to be enjoying it. He insisted we all have a good lunch. I managed to eat a sandwich, chips and a can of pop. He told us the dress code would be relaxed immediately. We could wear sweats or stretch pants, t-shirts, gym shorts or anything that was comfortable but with some modesty. He reviewed our reports for the morning and made some calls to the production line to make some needed corrections. He dismissed us and said what a good job we were doing.

The onslaught of food continued. I had crackers at two, followed by cheese snacks at three and corn chips at four-thirty. I was so bloated the buttons of my shirt looked like they would pop any minute.

My co-worker had to ask me to help her up. She had an apron on to cover the popped buttons of her sundress.

We all staggered to our cars to drive home. I had warned by wife to what to expect with the change in our job requirements. She was still stunned when she saw how bloated I was. I stripped off my constricting clothes and lay on our bed. To my surprise she came and started rubbing my belly. I felt so good I fell asleep for a while. She woke me up with the smells of huge dinner! I started to complain, but she said that she had been cooking all day. I just pulled on a t-shirt to cover my briefs and went to the dinning room.

I was shocked she had laid out a feast! I started to complain, “I can't eat all this dear; I feel like I'm going to explode now!”

She smiled coyly at me, “Yes, you can dear; I will help you.” I was shocked - what was going on? She set a plate, heaping with food in front of me. It was roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, mashed potatoes with tons of butter, several casseroles and fresh baked bread. By this time, my stretched out belly was ready to be refilled and refill it I did. I had three platefuls of food. My wife brought out a hot apple pie and a big container of ice cream and fixed me slice after slice.

By the time it was time to go to bed, I looked like I had swallowed a basketball. My belly was sticking out so far. My wife could not keep her hands of it either. I staggered to bed; she climbed in next me and rubbed my distended belly until I fell asleep.

The next morning after a shower, I tried to get into a pair of my trousers, no luck. I couldn't fasten them around my still bloated middle. My wife giggled at my dilemma; she suggested a pair of gym shorts since it was going to be hot that day, then pulled on a t-shirt which barely covered my belly. She fed me a large breakfast of pancakes and bacon.

She sent me off to work with a pat on my belly and a pinch on my butt!

By eight-thirty I had already downed a tray of brownies and was getting started on a tray of cookies. I felt much better without a belt or tight trousers to constrict my waist. I didn't even notice how bloated my belly was becoming. It was only when I took a break and went to the rest room did I glance in the mirror and was shocked to see how huge my pot was! My belly was pushing down the waistband of the shorts, and the t-shirt had ridden up on my belly. I couldn't even use the urinal, my belly stuck out so far!

I did catch some production errors that morning, though. The cookies had been baked too long and had a slightly burned taste to them. I reported it right away and was “rewarded” with another full tray to sample. This batch was much better.

Mr. Faber called another lunch meeting. We all managed to stagger into the conference room. He had it catered again! I managed to eat two sandwiches, chips, potato salad, ice tea (with sugar) and several brownies for dessert. Mr. Faber singled me out for catching the production problem that morning. He was dressed in sweats and looked even bigger than he did the day before. Some of the women looked fantastic, a couple of them seemed to be “getting into it” with all the sampling. If I hadn't known better I would have thought they had become pregnant overnight!

After lunch, I had to sample trays of our new chocolate covered pastry and cup cakes. I called my wife and told her how bloated I was becoming. I was surprised by her reaction; she sounded happy almost giddy at my news.

By five that evening, I had trouble getting up from my chair and even turning around in my cubicle. I again had to help my co-worker up from her chair, this time even helping her walk out to her car and helping her in it.

When I got home, my wife met me at the door. She gasped at my appearance and with a big smile on her face, she literally purred as she opened the door for me. She placed her hands on my now huge, round belly, “Oh honey, you look fantastic!” she gasped.

“Thanks, honey, God, I feel like I'm going to burst, I'm so stuffed.” I said.

She smiled, “Let me help you lie down for a while and digest, I have a surprise for you.”

“I hope it isn't something to eat, I don't know if I could eat again,” I replied. I pulled down my now very tight running shorts, revealing my distended belly bulging over my bikini briefs. I could swear I heard my wife gasp when she saw me. I lay down and she quickly lay down next to me. I asked her, “Do you mind me getting so fat? I really like my job, but I'm afraid I will never be able to lose any weight working there.”

She answered, “Oh, honey, I don't mind at all; in fact, I want you to get as fat as you possibly can!”

I was shocked, “But I have tried to stay in shape all this time and you want me to get fat!”

“Yes dear, I do - I want this big, beautiful belly of yours to get just huge! I even want your bottom to get big and soft too,” she said, pinching my round butt. I leaned over, pressing my expanding belly onto her and kissing her hard. She reacted, grabbing me on top of her.

I asked, “Am I to heavy to be on top, love?”

“No,” she gasped, “I love to feel your belly pressing down on me,” she shrieked.

After some “exercise,” she led me to my surprise. The dining room table was covered with boxes and pans from Boston Market; all of my favorites were there, including a huge pan of mac & cheese. By now I had regained my appetite, plopped myself down in a chair and began gorging! I ate for nearly two hours, as my wife helped mw eat, even feeding me. She rubbed my bloated belly to relieve the pressure when I slowed down, cut up food so I could eat even faster. I don't know who was more turned on, me or my wife.

When I was so stuffed I could hardly move, she helped me waddle/stagger to bed; it was only nine thirty, but I was so full I could hardly stay awake. I sat on the edge of the bed, my belly, now a round orb bulging from my chest out on to my thighs. My wife could hardly keep her hands off of me. We spooned as we feel asleep.

The next morning after a great shower, rubbing my growing belly with soap, my wife prepared a huge breakfast, French toast, pancakes, bacon and sausages. I gleefully stuffed myself as my bride watched with delight in her eyes. I staggered to the car, now wearing the only things that came even close to fitting, XXL sweats (elastic waistband, of course) and a XXL t-shirt that barely covered my bloated belly.

I arrived at my cubicle to find it already piled with samples from the line. With new confidence, knowing my wife wanted me huge, I ate with abandon all morning. At lunch, I pigged out on the pizzas Mr. Faber had ordered. My gluttony was not lost on him; I saw him wink at me a couple of times and even complimented me in front of my co-workers for “working so hard” on my sampling.

That afternoon I had six trays of various products to “analyze.” My co-worker commented that I seemed to be really enjoying myself with the “sampling.” I confided in her that my wife wanted me to get a huge fat belly and round plump rear. She could not believe that I was even being stuffed again at home after eating all day long at work. She was envious that my spouse was not only supportive of my/our situation, but that she encouraging me to enjoy myself, too.

When I got home that night, my wife was waiting for me. She had bought a scale and a digital camera. She also bought me a new wardrobe of bikini cut briefs, t-shirts, a couple of sets of large sweat pants and support briefs. She loaded up on lotions and creams to rub on my belly and rear to prevent stretch marks. She had me try on some of the briefs and a new stretchy t-shirt that hugged my paunch and had me stand against a white painted wall and took my picture. She then got me on the scale, I didn't want to find out how fat I was getting, but she wanted to know my weight after just one week of binging. I was surprised to see that I had only gained twelve pounds - though that translated to nearly four inches on my belly. She giggled as she measured my body, waist 41”, hips 42” (really giggling now!) and my chest 44”. She downloaded the picture of me to the computer and labeled it with the date, my weight, and measurements.

It was getting later in the evening and I had not eaten in nearly two hours. My belly growled. She giggled and told me to put on the sweats - we were going out to the new buffet place near the highway. I gained seven more pounds that weekend alone. I was pampered all weekend, the only annoying thing was struggling out of a chair or away from the table for measurements, weigh-ins and more pictures.

Monday morning several people noticed my weight gain. Early that morning Mr. Faber called me to his office. He announced to me that I was being promoted to V.P. and senior researcher. My increased girth was not lost on him. He asked if everything was okay at home. (We'd had three people resign over weight and eating issues.) I told him how supportive my wife was, to the point that I was now being encouraged to gain as much weight as I could!

He told me why he had left the industry earlier in his career. His first wife hated his weight gain. He told me when he started that he only weighed one-hundred and thirty pounds. He was so unhappy after “retiring,” that he divorced her. He met his new wife at a buffet of all places. She loved his size and convinced him to rejoin the industry.

Mr. Faber's program worked! The company was rapidly gaining (pun intended) a reputation for high quality over its entire product line. Management wisely kept prices the same, promoting high quality at a better price. Sales and profits went off the charts!

Over that first year, Mr. Faber became too fat to come to work. He reached a weight of over four hundred pounds, and it was just too difficult to dress and bath in the mornings. I was promoted to his position and I am happy to report that I am “filling” it rather well.

I, of course, continued to gain under my wife's loving tutelage. She and I really got into the weekly and weekend weigh-ins and pictures. I love my new shape as much as my wife does. My waist is now 51”, my hips 54” and chest 48”. I especially love how my belly sticks out so far. I have to use the handicap commodes in restrooms; I am too big to use the urinal anymore. I weigh now three hundred and ten pounds. I do get some exercise to strengthen my leg muscles to carry my girth at the company's health club.

Everyone in my department is either obese, overweight or rapidly becoming so. I have kept the mandatory eating every sample policy. The company's profits are so good that we even have special health coverage for the quality assurance dept. employees.

Well, back to work - a tray of brownies just arrived for sampling!