Weight Room Title Bar

What She Did
by Wayne Wright


Sarah woke up to the glare of sun against her face. What a party that had been last night! It must have been, judging from her aching body. Reluctantly, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. Oof! What the heck? She looked down at her stomach. Where she remembered a flat, taut midriff, there was a small but noticeable roll of flesh, pushing out against her satin panties.

"What in the world have I done to myself?" she thought. It seemed to be Sunday morning; she tried to remember what she had done last night. She was going to go out to the Oasis with Connie. She sat, bemused, when she noticed a black plastic trash bag at her feet. She looked inside.

She saw various containers of the most fattening food, all empty. There were at least 3 pints of high butterfat ice cream, and 5 (five!) empty cans of cake frosting, mostly chocolate. There were dozens of empty candy bar and snack cake wrappers. All sweets, except for a box of crackers and some cheese.

Her face flushed as she contemplated this incriminating trash. She felt embarrassed, excited and hungry all at the same time. Hungry? How odd that she should feel that way after looking at trash, but, after all, she usually woke up feeling hungry on the weekends. This was different, though; she felt ravenous.

She tried to push that thought away from her as she got up to go to the bathroom. She thought she could feel the extra weight as she got to her feet. She couldn't help herself; now she had to find out how much she weighed.

She entered the bathroom and stepped on the scales. Five pounds heavier! Was that possible? She got that flushed feeling again. Turning to the full-length mirror on the door, she gazed at her body as if it were a newly-found piece of jewelry. Five pounds had left a soft layer covering her entire body. She touched her face. Her formerly sharp jaw line was softer, more feminine; she had to admit, it was prettier. She smiled to herself. Dimples, too!

The more she looked, however, the more critical she became. What would her mother say? What would her friends say? She knew that fat was gross; she had to banish it from her body! And yet . . . She turned sideways. Her profile was more curvy, more womanly, than before. Not perfect, of course. That tummy roll looked small now, and her ribs were visible above it.

Wait a minute! What was wrong with ribs?

Then she remembered the previous night all at once. She had met a man at the Oasis; they had danced, kissed and fallen into lust. His name was Jim, Joe, something like that. He was tall, a bit stocky, with thick, muscular arms and shoulders. While driving over to her place, they stopped at the Safeway and loaded up on goodies. That was his idea.

Then, they came home and had a one-on-one orgy. She remembered him ladling frosting into her mouth and then kissing her. The sweet chocolate flavor, his probing tongue and lips, and his hot, stiff organ ramming her had all blended into one warm, caressing sensation.

She shook her head as she snapped back to the present. Then she had a wicked thought: What would five more pounds look like? As she imagined another eating binge, she became flushed again. She saw the red creep over her face and down her neck, and she knew what it was: she was extremely horny!

She finished washing up, then went into the kitchen. She felt her breathing go fast and shallow as she saw the full cans of frosting, boxes of Twinkies, and piles of candy bars on the counter. She looked in the freezer; yes! There were four big, round cartons of ice cream! She grabbed a trash bag from under the sink and filled it with the goodies. She rushed back into her bedroom, ready to continue her experiment on her body . . .


That night, she had a dream. She was with Jerry, her new boyfriend. They were going out to an expensive restaurant. They were seated at a booth, and Jerry ordered for both of them. As the food started arriving, she dug into it with vigor. There was something languidly sensual about the feel of food in her mouth, The flavor, and the satisfaction in her stomach. The food was not identifiable; It was the idea of food that exciting, not the particular item. It was creamy, smooth and fatty, as if it contained whipped cream.

Soon, though, the relaxed, smooth pleasure of eating took on a more urgent note. With no discernible break in the action, she was at home, being stuffed by Jerry. As time went on, she noticed that she was leaning farther back, until she was lying face up, being passively fed.

The food seemed to be coming faster, and required more chewing. She realized that she was eating candy bars; then she noticed she was taking them 4 at a time, 2 across and two down. Her mouth was stretched to the limit, but she craved more.

Now she moved her hand down to her belly, and felt it growing. She felt the pressure building inside as she grew bigger. It seemed to swell uncontrollably. Soon, Jerry was no longer present, but the food kept coming. Her hand explored down further, to her hips and ass. These were growing, too. Somehow, she could see her ass as it was now: 2 giant moons, not sagging, but as round and large as beach balls.

She reached below her stomach to her crotch. Her belly pushed against her arm as she rubbed the soft, hairy folds. She was now a giant ball, reaching full size. Soon, she would be complete. Her body reached the brink of climax as she swelled. She felt it building, up, up, up, . . . and OVER!

Sarah woke up. Yes, the climax was real, she said to herself as she examined her privates. She felt like a balloon that had been inflated, then popped. She was drained and exhausted, but felt good; squirmy and cuddly.


Sarah stretched languidly as she rolled over to look at the clock. Ten AM, Sunday: one week after her first night with Jerry. She pushed herself out of bed. Hoo, boy; this was getting difficult! Her plump body was completely naked. She squatted down to pick up her underpants. She pulled them on and walked out to the kitchen. Before she could think about it, she reached into the fridge and grabbed a block of cheese. She stopped herself in mid-chew. What was she doing? She hadn't even taken a shower yet.

She walked back to the bathroom and gratefully pulled off her panties; they were starting to pinch. She took her time in the shower, lazily lathering and rinsing her body. She stepped out of the shower stall and onto the scale. She got off and back on again before she could believe the number. Twenty pounds in one week! What a luscious feeling, she thought. Jerry kept saying how pretty she was getting with each added pound. As she regarded herself in the mirror, she had to agree. Her tits and buns were ripened fruits of flesh, and her little tummy roll of a week ago had swelled into a round pot.

She padded out to the bedroom, still naked. She rubbed her sore buttock muscles; thank God that Jerry had gone home last night! She thought of his ruddy face and light brown, curly hair. Much as she loved his magnificent body, she needed a rest. She got a clean panty from her bureau, but it was even tighter than the pair she had worn into the kitchen. She tried another and another, but they were all too painful to wear.

Finally, she grabbed one of Jerry's briefs that she had washed. A little baggy, but they'd do. The first item on the agenda was to head down to Sears and buy bigger clothes! She pulled on her loosest pair of 501s. They were binding her thighs, but she managed to pull them all the way up. The buttons were more difficult. The top button came within 1 inch of the buttonhole, and no further. She lay down on her bed, sucked in her gut and tried again. Success!

She slipped into a huge tee shirt that she used as a nightshirt. Then she reached down to get her socks. Ouch! She could barely move in these tight jeans. Well, the shirt would cover her waistline, she reasoned as she undid the top two buttons. Ahh, that was better.

She was sitting on her bed, staring at her belly. The unattached ends of the waistband were hidden by the thick roll of fat that spilled over it. As she had been a week ago, sitting in that position, she felt embarrassed by her body. She couldn't imagine going out dressed like this. Then, she remembered that she had to visit Mother today. She already knew what was in store for her; she just hoped she could withstand the assault.

In any case, Sears was first on the list.


Sarah's mother had hardly batted an eye upon seeing Sarah's enlarged body. The new outfit must have done the trick, Sarah had thought. But it wasn't going to be that easy. Mother calmly asked her why she was so . . ., well, heavy.

Sarah had to tell her about the binges; it was obvious anyway, since there was no other way to put on weight so fast. She left out the sexy details, although she did mention Jerry.

Mother seemed to have guessed more than what she heard. "Dear, I know that these food orgies feel good now, but you are paying the price. What you've got to understand, dear, is that these urges are sick."

"What exactly makes it sick?" asked Sarah, "Jerry and I aren't hurting anyone."

"What about hurting yourself, dear? You know you're not healthy. What would your doctor say?"

"I suppose he'd tell me to lose weight. Who cares? If I choose to take a risk, why is it anyone else's business?"

"Baby, you don't know what you're doing." It took a determined effort for Sarah to let that comment slide. At least she didn't say that I was hurting her, Sarah mused.


The visit with Mother produced no resolution, except that Mother gave Sarah the card of a therapist who could "cure" her, so Mother said. As if she had some disease, Sarah thought as she drove home.

But her health was important; what about her cholesterol count? She could get diabetes, or a heart attack. Sarah couldn't shake these questions.

She entered her house and flopped on the bed. Her stomach rumbled; she hadn't eaten dinner yet. She walked out to the kitchen and opened the fridge. In it were leftovers from her binges; half of a boxed cake, some candy bars, and some other things wrapped in foil. Was there any real food? Finally, she found some cold cuts and fixed herself a sandwich.

As she ate, she thought about Jerry. He liked fat women; would he still want her if she no longer gorged herself? If he was hurting her by feeding her, maybe it was best if she were rid of him.

Wait a second, she thought. He hadn't forced her to do anything; just encouraged her. He had done nothing mean to her at all. Other relationships had ended in pain, but she had never been the first one to hurt the other.

As she stared off into space, the sun setting behind her shoulder, she realized how little she knew about Jerry. He said he was a field engineer for a power utility, but he hadn't left town since they had met. Was it a slow time for electrical power? She wondered what he was going to do tonight. For that matter, what had he done in the evenings before he had met her? Prowl the Oasis every night, looking for skinny girls to fatten up? Like the witch in Hansel and Gretel, she thought, grinning. She'd have to tell him that.

She winced as she realized she wouldn't be seeing him tonight. He had to work late, he had said. Forget him, what was SHE going to do tonight? Somehow, the TV seemed inadequate. She could see the refrigerator as she looked through the archway into the kitchen. She knew what she WANTED to do. . . .

No, she had promised Mom she wouldn't pig out again until she had talked to the therapist. Big mistake.

She sat there, watching the room grow dark, unable to muster enough enthusiasm to turn on a light or the TV, when she heard a knock on the door. "All right," she thought, "Jerry's not so busy after all."

Sure enough, Jerry was at the door, his husky shoulders seemingly filling up the doorway. He wore a red plaid lumberjack's shirt and jeans. Fashion is not this guy's strong point, she thought nastily. She invited him in.

He looked around at the dark house. "Somebody die?"

She chuckled. "No, I just like the dark. Here, I guess I can stand one light bulb," she said, turning the switch.

"Honey, what's the matter? Did something happen?"

"Jerry, I don't know if I should be doing this. You know, pigging out every night. I don't think it's really healthy."

Jerry was quiet for a few moments. "I get the feeling someone else is making you do this. I don't mean another guy. . . . It's just that I know what kind of pressure your friends can put on you."

"Not to mention your mother, I mean, my mother. Okay, you're right, they did give me a lot of grief, but this is my decision. I mean, how much do we know about each other? Look, Jerry. . ." She paused for an uncomfortable moment. "Look, how. . ." she closed her eyes and took a shuddering deep breath. She visibly got herself under control. "How many times have you done this?" she asked, looking him in the eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"These food orgies: how many times?"

"In my dreams, thousands. In real life, once. With you."

She leaned over and fell into his arms, sighing. "Oh, Jerry, you don't know what it's like. I mean, they say they worry about you, but they sound so judgmental, like they're saying `if you want to be my friend, you have to be skinny.'"

"Honey, I know. I think women have it rougher when they gain weight, but it's no picnic for men."

"But what am I supposed to do? I mean . . ."

"Sweetheart, if you say `I mean' one more time . . ." He grinned at her. She smiled back, sheepishly.

"Let me ask you something," he continued. "Do you enjoy our little, shall we say, parties?"

"Oh God, they're like nothing I've ever felt before. And each time, it feels just as good!" She thought back on the sex and food they had had, a sly smile creeping on her face.

"Then what could possibly be wrong with them?"

She thought of the reasons Mother had come up with that afternoon. "It's unhealthy. I mean--oops, sorry!" They laughed together. "We're going to get enormously fat, and have a heart attack, or two."

"I've got this doctor. He knows me, and knows what I like to do. I am healthier than most men of, well, normal size. Because I stay active, I get out and do things. Now I've got someone to do them with. He tells me when I'm underdoing it or overdoing it. Don't worry, he'll be happy to help you."

"But my mother, my girlfriends, they . . ."

"Hey, if they can't accept you as you are, or want to be, then they're not your friends."

"Wow, that's sure original."

"Well, it may be a cliché, but it's true all the same."

The closeness of his body stimulated her. There was no way he was going to leave without bedding her tonight. Should she argue some more for appearances. She leaned closer to him, facing him. Why bother?


She leaned all the way over, pushing him down and kissing him, mouth open. He grabbed her ass and pulled it toward him, pressing her plump tummy against his. Their hips ground as they lay on the couch, kissing.

Finally, she came up for air. No words were necessary as they went into the kitchen and cleaned out the refrigerator and the cupboards into the black plastic bag. They moved into the bedroom, kissing as they went. They lowered themselves onto the bed, still kissing. He reached into the bag and pulled out the cake. Breaking off a sticky, frosting-covered piece, he pressed it into her awaiting mouth. He then covered it with his mouth, and they sucked on the love and sweetness that they shared.

After fumbling for buttons and zippers, they coupled in a feeding frenzy. Gobbling cake as they went. His huge organ still inside, she rolled him over, and took another cake out of the bag. As she writhed on top of him, she opened the foil wrapping and buried her face in the fattening food, gobbling it up as fast as she could.

After an hour or so of hungry, squirming pleasure, she had to stop. The combined food and exertion had given her stomach cramps, and she lay on her back, the sweat evaporating from her skin. She started to fall asleep when a poking at her mouth woke her. He had a serving spoon full of gourmet ice cream, and was shoving it in her face. She accepted it, having lost all her strength. Soon, her mouth was stuffed; she thought her cheeks would burst, but all she wanted was more. Like a baby bird, she swallowed and held her mouth open, greedily wanting more.

Throughout the night, she would fall asleep and reawaken, and he was always ready to feed her lusty body. The last time she woke up, he was asleep and her stomach could hold no more. She sat up and turned the light on. She put her hands on her belly. It was so full of food, it seemed like a bowling ball attached to her middle. Pregnant women must feel like this, she thought. As she lay down and turned sideways, her belly sloshed over, almost pinning her to the bed. She felt somewhat uncomfortable, but was excited by the new sensation of this weight tugging at her.

Her food capacity must have increased during her binge period, she thought, rubbing her midriff. She remembered putting away twice as much food as she had that first night, when she had gained 5 pounds. She struggled out of bed, pushing herself up. For the third time in three weeks, she marveled at how much heavier she was, but this time, with exuberant joy. She waddled over to the bathroom and did her business.

As she stood up off the toilet, she realized that her belly, which had felt tight as a drum, now felt looser and more comfortable. The food inside no longer distended it to bursting. She wondered how much she weighed, walking toward the scale. Then she stopped as she saw Jerry on the bed through the half-open door. There were twin yearnings in her abdomen: one for food, and one for Jerry. She walked over to the bed, eager to satisfy them both at once.