by Wilson Barbers
It started - and ultimately ended - with the man at the buffet.
She'd come into The Chick'n Shack for an easy dinner. Working late, with nothing waiting for her at home (five days and counting since her breakup with her former boyfriend), Diana entered the restaurant, looking for a comfort meal. Salad and a small piece of roasted chicken, perhaps: nothing too fattening.
It'd been a day-and-a-half at the Academic Center. As Spring approached and the end of another school year loomed, hordes of procrastinating collegians were showing up for access to the latest job search programs. The Real World approacheth, Diana thought as she caught a second glimpse of the super-sized fat man. In his vastness, he seemed to symbolize a reality most of us tried to ignore.
Diana herself was short and average build - larger than the skeletons who passed for fashion beauty, but by no means fat. Her form was nicely shapely, though she typically didn't wear short sleeves because she thought her arms too big. Dieting or calorie counting had never been much of an issue to her. She was blessed with a body that just asked for enough.
Perhaps this kept her from being as fat phobic as her peers. Because she'd never had to fight the urge for just-one-more-piece-of-candy, Diana didn't look at fat as a personal enemy. Unfettered by any feelings of discomfort, she gazed upon the super-sized figure with unblinking clarity.
He appeared to be in his early thirties, dressed in a pair of navy blue twill work pants and a long-sleeved shirt that was having difficulty remaining tucked. His hair was short and neatly combed, his face flushed and clean-shaven. There were clear laugh lines around his eyes, a friendly smile on his sensualist lips. As he leaned forward to fill his tray, his belly squashed against the buffet table. Its drooping hang was visible beneath the fabric of his work pants.
He was, quite easily, the fattest human being Diana had ever seen in the flesh.
Normally, she'd have noted the man's presence and moved on. But something in the way he presented himself fascinated her. When she finally got her order - a mere three-piece dinner, not the more open buffet - she took it to a booth within sight of the red-faced fat man. His body was too large for booth seating, she saw, and came close to spilling onto two chairs at his table.
He'd filled two trays at the buffet, one devoted to rolls and mountains of salad, the second to chicken and potatoes. Hard to imagine actually eating all that food in one sitting!
Once he started dining, Diana couldn't take her eyes off him. Most fat adults were circumspect when they ate in public. He wasn't. The fat man attacked his meal like a small boy going at his Christmas presents. His face was so full of delight, it was like spying on a teenager scoring on his first date.
As she further watched, Diana felt herself warming in a way she hadn't associated with mere eating. Her face grew as flushed as his; beneath her blouse, her breasts became more sensitive. She'd never grown aroused just watching a man before - what was that all about?
She barely noticed her own dinner. But by the time the fat man rose to get a second serving from the buffet, she'd eaten it all. Though it wasn't something she typically did, Diana rose and returned to the counter, eyeing the super-sized gourmand with a sidelong glance as she passed him. Once there, she ordered a refill on her pop and a piece of cheesecake, leaning back against the counter top so she could oh-so-casually watch her human target. He filled another tray with chicken and mashed potatoes, stuffing and green beans - all the buffet staples - then he spooned several dollops of apple cobbler onto a salad plate.
Diana sat and nursed her soda until the fat man rose to leave (the cheesecake, she quickly devoured). What was so intriguing about him? She wasn't certain, but that didn't stop her from following and watching him heft his huge self into his four-wheel-drive. As he drove off, she stifled the urge to gun her Geo Metro and chase after him. That, she thought as she headed back to home, would have been taking things too far.
The rest of the night her thoughts kept returning to the man at the buffet. No matter where she'd try to concentrate his image kept recurring. It didn't make sense based on everything she'd ever done, but this kind of obsession didn't have to make sense.
When she finally headed for bed, the only way Diana could relax enough to sleep was to recreate the fat man's dinner in her head. Was that his usual meal? she wondered. Or just an irregular celebratory fling? How did a person let themselves get so obese, anyway? Wasn't he worried about his health? What did his friends and family think?
When she woke the following a.m., it was like this inner monologue had never ceased. Where did a man that big find employment? she wondered. Did he have a girlfriend?
Though she usually didn't have much to do with breakfast - coffee and a piece of toast typically sufficed, thank you - Diana left the apartment early to buy two chocolate croissants. She finished them before she even entered the office. It was as if the sight of the man from the buffet had opened up a whole new realm of possibility.
All through the morning, the snack machine called to her. Though she answered it several times, it barely touched her hunger. By lunch, she was famished, so she went to the nearest spot possible - a MacDonald's in the student union - and ordered two Arch Deluxes. Ordinarily, Diana would have barely been able to finish one, but today she topped it off with large fries and a shake. It all tasted wonderful. She could have sat in the restaurant at least another hour, just basking in the sights and smells of others dining.
By the time Diana returned to her office, she was feeling bloated and uncomfortable, too full to eat anything the rest of the day. She couldn't remember ever feeling so stuffed. That sensation only lasted until dinnertime, however.
When the work day ended, Diana drove to a local steak house, a restaurant known for its food bar. The place was typically crowded with area trenchermen and women: full-bodied Midwesterners who clearly knew how to enjoy a buffet. Ordering a twelve-ounce rib-eye to go along with the food bar (though in the past the latter would have been sufficient), she ate until the crowd thinned.
In the midst of her dining, Diana pulled her blouse and let the elastic of her skirt slide under her tummy. It made it easier to keep on eating without any physical discomfort discouraging her. With this one act, she bid adieu to the days of paying attention to her body's cues. Now, she'd eat as much as she wanted to eat.
As if encouraged by this new direction, her body started asking for more.
Every morning, Diana woke up hungry and remained that way the rest of the day. Her trips to the snack machine grew so frequent that she started stocking boxes of Little Debbies and bags of candy in her desk drawer. She became a hard-core regular at practically every buffet in town. For some reason, she didn't feel ready to return to the Chick'n Shack, however.
It only took two weeks for her clothes to start to bind, for the button on her jeans to snap when she sat on the couch to nosh. The last time that Diana had gained any real weight, she'd hit puberty. In a way, her newest transformation was like another form of maturation. Where most women would have panicked at the change, Diana reveled in it.
Because she didn't own a scale, Diana had to use the public pay scale at GNC in the mall. It gave her weight as 164, twenty-four pounds heavier than she'd been when she started. Her lucky number - the digital readout also told her - was 563. How big would she have to be to reach that weight? As big as the man from the buffet?
Diana's new size wasn't available at her usual haunts, so she had to do the plus-size shops. She was the smallest woman in any of them, but she suspected that status wouldn't last. As a result, she mainly focused on the clearance racks. Her twenty-plus poundage had primarily found its way to her middle, though her upper arms had widened also. If she tilted her head to the side, a slight chin line became observable.
Her between meal snacking was confined around student interviews on workdays. But on weekends she really let herself go. Friday nights, Diana would stock up on pastries (eating one or two just to make sure she'd made the right choices) and spend her Saturday mornings lounging in her robe and noshing non-stop. Then she'd dress in a loose fitting frock and head for the malls, where two-thirds of her afternoon was consumed in the food court. By night, she'd feel so stuffed that all she could do was go back home and lie on the couch. Two hours later, and she'd be hungry enough to order pizza.
Sundays were even more intense. She'd sleep late, then visit one of the brunch buffets. Once she'd gotten her money's worth, Diana would return home and plan Sunday dinner: her one big opportunity each week to cook something truly opulent. She'd fill her kitchen table with enough food to feed a family of four, then imagine that the man from the buffet was with her, enjoying the fruits of her labor. Eating by herself, she never had any leftovers.
This new routine might have been prohibitive, if Diana hadn't stashed several thousand dollars in savings over the last five years. When a size grew too confining, she brought it into a consignment shop. And because barely worn plus-size clothing was at a premium, it all went quickly. The proceeds went to buy her next size up.
Her measurements began to change monthly: three months into her new life, Diana was a size twenty-two, more than two-hundred-ten pounds of plump woman. Her tummy was now a belly, and it continued to be the prime repository of her extra poundage. Her hips and legs were growing to support her new size, and while they remained shapely, her inner thighs definitely rubbed together. Diana's face rounded into that of a plump woman's, She cut her hair to frame it better, drawing more attention to her second chin in the process.
At work, her office mates started dropping hints and suggestions: new diet programs, low-fat entrees, exercise, the whole magilla. She'd smile and promptly forget everything they told her. By the end of summer session, they'd given up.
With her intake continuing to increase, Diana started growing out of sizes on a bi-weekly basis. And the larger she grew, the hungrier she got. Though she knew this didn't make physiological sense - her digestive system wasn't any bigger, after all, just the package surrounding it - her appetite was undeniable. It was almost as if the part of her brain which was meant to tell Diana she was full had blown a fuse under the pressure of her ongoing gormandizing.
Six months in, and she'd become a connoisseur of buffets. Much like a lover of poetry learns to appreciate both structure and individual creativity, Diana had become versed in the form's rules and nuances. The gleaming row where you slid your tray. The plate of plexi-glass that hovered over each offering. The sections devoted to a single course. In buffets, food and plenty were celebrated honestly and openly.
Occasionally, of course, you came across a mixed message. The dessert line at her favorite steak house, for example, had a tray of cheesecake with slices so small you could down them in two bites. What was the point? Whenever Diana went for it, she took at least five pieces. To do otherwise, would be dishonest to the spirit of buffet dining.
After six months of gorging, she was twice her old weight: two-hundred-and-eighty-five pounds. Her belly pushed ahead of her and drooped over her crotch; her upper arms sagged at her elbows. To support her forefront, Diana's rear had started to sprout, adding a jounce to her backside. Though their growth was no match for her most prominent feature, her breasts also benefited from her change. Proudly full, they jutted on top of her paunch with globular assertion.
When summer session ended, Diana took two weeks vacation. Second day of her leave, her car passed the Chick'n Shack, and, for a moment, she considered finally hitting its buffet. Though she'd gorged at bigger and better smorgasbords over the past six months, she still felt reluctant to enter the parking lot. You're still not ready, a voice in the back of her chided. You're only a fraction of the woman you should be.
"Am I?" she answered, gritting her teeth and aiming her Geo for a nearby Taco Bell instead. "We'll see about that." Ordering one of every item from the menu, she stacked her passenger seat with Mexican and drove around the city. It was all finished before she even had to stop for gas. Her jaw ached; her sun dress was stained with dollops of sour cream and taco sauce, and she was dripping with sweat. Despite all this, she never felt better in her life. By the end of her vacation, she gained thirty pounds, putting herself emphatically over the 300 hundred pound mark.
When she finally returned to work, she found she'd become unapologetically gluttonous. Diana ate during student interviews, supervisory meetings, every chance she could. Each morning she brought a box of donuts and a Danish into her office; they were gone by break. She bought king-sized bags of candy at Sam's Club, finishing one off in a day. Her Sunday meals doubled in size.
If she was any problem at work, she probably would have been fired. But even with her mouth full, Diana knew her stuff. Besides, as she grew into super-size, she suddenly found herself classified as Disabled, a status that the ADA sensitive university relished. Her new size had become an asset.
She started dreaming about the man at the buffet regularly. While she couldn't remember the specifics, she always woke from these dreams aroused under the apron of her belly. As she grew closer to him in size, a psychic connection seemed to be forming.
Or perhaps it was all illusion: one fat woman's rationalization for her abandonment of all restraint. When it came down to it, she didn't care. At this point, Diana couldn't see herself willingly giving up the life she'd made for herself. Her old appetites had been so pallid and anemic - much like her old life had been - that to return to them would be betraying herself.
Thus, she ate and dreamed the rest of the year away. On the anniversary of her life change, Diana finally knew she was ready. She left work early to get a proper measure of herself. Puffing from the exertion of walking a distance that six months ago would have been nothing to her, she returned to the GNC scale, and, though she knew she'd get in trouble for even attempting it, she stepped on it and dropped in a quarter.
The shout from a nearby clerk was drowned by the large crack! the scale gave when she placed her ponderous weight on it. The machine still had enough in it to spit out a new weight and lucky number. Her weight, it told her, was 563; her new lucky number, 982.
She'd reached her old lucky number. A good sign. Turning and smiling sweetly at the irate clerk, she shrugged her cushiony shoulders and said, "You really should post a weight limit on that machine. I could've gotten hurt here!" Then she waddled back to her car in the parking lot, leaving a flabbergasted store clerk in her wake.
Five hundred-and-sixty-three pounds. Diana was irrevocably fat, and the fact made her proud. For the first time in a year, her sense of restlessness had been stilled. Taking a good long look at herself in the mall's mirrored tiles, she saw a woman who could hold her own at the Chick'n Shack.
At five-fifty-plus pounds, she was humongous: breasts in the mid-sixties FF range, hips spreading into the high eighties, waistline over seventy inches in circumference. In a pleated denim skirt, her belly apron tilted jauntily; her breasts held their own among the other bulges on her torso. Her face was so puffed up it looked like she was perpetually holding her breath; her cheeks and chins quivered as she smiled at her reflection.
She'd given up on long-sleeved blouses months ago, exposing her sagging upper arms to the world. They were the most textured part of her body, but she didn't mind them at all. They rested against her swelling sides with fleshy insouciance - and, to think, she'd once been ashamed of them!
Her mouth was watering when she hit Chick'n Shack's parking lot. It was still light outside, with a cool breeze that wafted under her skirt and sent a chill across her sweat-dappled legs. The dinner crowd had yet to arrive, so the buffet was full and fresh. It looked so good, she could eat it all and more!
Diana picked the same table she'd seen her fat man take. It was strategically placed so she'd be relatively private (as private as one could be in a fast food restaurant, anyway) and still have a minimal number of steps to the serving trays. Starting light, she piled about twelve ounces apiece of potato, pasta and macaroni salad onto a plate, then surrounded these with a ring of rolls and real butter. For her second plate, she put together enough barbecue chicken parts to reconstruct a new bird and added mashed potatoes and stuffing to every free space. A good start, she thought happily.
She was about to bite into her first heavily slathered roll when she heard a male voice clear behind her. Slightly annoyed to be disrupted at the start, Diana looked up to see a tremendous male paunch move within view. It was dressed in the same colored work pants and shirt that she remembered, but they both seemed bigger and tighter on their accompanying frame than the version she'd seen a year ago.
"Okay if I join you?" the figure said, holding his tray above his mountainous belly. His lips and chins smiled down at Diana, and she momentarily felt at a loss for words. To steal herself, she took a bite from a roll, then a second, and with the sweet taste of butter and roll soothing her, she said, "I'd be delighted."
"I was hoping you'd show," the fat man asked, as he slid his plates from his tray. He'd gone heavy on the green salad, she saw, with at least half a cup of grated cheese and ranch dressing on top. Diana nodded, well into her selection of salads. She didn't even stop to consider how odd his statement was. A warm feeling was spreading through her, and she started to eat more rapidly.
"My name's Diana," she said with her mouth full, and the fat man likewise told her his name was Steve. He worked in an agribusiness lab on hybrids, lived in a ranch in a nearby bedroom community and had been coming to the Chick'n Shack on a weekly basis for the last two years.
"I'm death on buffets," he said, patting his paunch for emphasis. He was about fifty to sixty pounds heavier than Diana. Not much, she gauged, though his belly loomed so much further ahead of him due to his more mannish distribution of weight.
"Me, too," she said, flirtatiously lifting a chicken breast to her lips. They locked eyes and ate through the dinner rush, barely noticing the crowd all around them, then continued into the evening. They didn't stop eating until it was time for the place to close. By then, they'd both lost track of the number of times they'd each returned to the buffet table.
"What now?" Steve asked, as they slowly headed for the exit. It was the first word he'd spoken in hours, but Diana felt like he'd revealed everything to her. If Steve didn't offer to take her home, she was going to do it herself. She'd never wanted a man as much as she wanted him now.
"I've got some kahlua and ice cream at home," Steve offered. "A lot of ice cream, actually. Would you like to continue this?" She nodded, sending quivers through her chins. As she followed his car out of town, she'd reach into the glove box for a bag of Hershey's Cookies 'N' Creme to tide her over. In the fifteen minutes it took to reach Steve's house, she ate the thirteen ounce bag.
She was comfortably glutted. It took some work for her to get out of the car - her belly was much less malleable than it was before dinner - but she was able to slowly follow Steve. He wasn't exactly sprinting himself, Diana noticed, as she watched his ponderous form trudge to the ultra-wide entrance of his house. The way his rear and back thighs jostled as he walked was immensely arousing to her, as was the knowledge that her back view was even more splendid. She felt it jiggle behind her as she followed him into his home.
Her belly brushed the door as she passed into Steve's home. It was, she saw, tastefully furnished with plenty of super-size friendly furniture. His job obviously paid well.
"Shall we take a look at the kitchen?" he asked. "There's a nice sturdy table and a freezer full of ice cream."
"Do you believe in fate?" he asked her as they dipped into their respective cartons of Breyer's, glasses of kahlua and whole cream within reach.
"I think you make your own fate," Diana answered, after several thoughtful seconds. "Why do you ask?"
"Don't you think we were fated to run into each other today?" he asked. "You said you hadn't been to the Chick'n Shack in a year. If both of us hadn't gone today, it might've been weeks before we saw each other again." He held a tablespoon full of coffee ice cream to her lips, and she took her first bite of proffered food. A shiver ran through her layers of womanflesh, so she reciprocated with an offering from her own carton. Steve winked and accepted the tablespoonful.
"Again?" she asked, and he nodded with his mouth full.
"Saw you in the Chick'n Shack a year ago," he said, "though you were quite a bit thinner then. I remember thinking how good you'd look with a little more weight on you."
"And what do you think now?"
"That I was right," he answered, and with that, they reconvened their dining in Steve's bedroom. Taking all but a few feet around it was a pair of king-size mattresses on an elevated pallet. Looked strong enough to hold them both, Diana thought - an important concern when their combined weight was over eleven hundred pounds.
Steve placed both cartons on a tray and turned back to her. They kissed side-saddle, bellies passing along each other, right hands exploring the front of each other's torso. Diana felt his hand worm its way under her top - no easy task, considering how tight it had gotten over dinner - and explore her spongy belly. When it reached the bottom of her ultra-reinforced bra, the blouse buttons were near popping. She quickly undid them with her left hand.
Her bra was a front-snap item (she'd lost the flexibility to reach that far behind months ago), which made it easy for Steve. In an instant, her top was free. She backed away and let him take her in.
With so much of her belly hanging neath the waistband of her dress, all you could see was the first of its horizontal folds, plus the hint of a vertical indentation that grew deeper at her navel. Her breasts looked small atop this ponderous mass, though they were each so round and full that they'd have unbalanced an average woman's body. She lifted one to her mouth, and she reached her nipple with ease.
Steve licked his lips, as he doffed his shirt and pants. His body was surprisingly hair-free for a man his size - the better to see each fold and roll, Diana thought hungrily, reaching across her own voluminous paunch to stroke his quivering chest. Peaking underneath the hang of his gut, she saw, was the tip of his stiffening member. That was some thick erection, she realized, to raise the weight of his belly apron like that.
And she was responsible for it.
She sat on the bed's edge, then lowered herself on her side; her naked breasts and belly flowed ahead of her as she pulled her denim skirt off. She'd given up on panties months ago, as her belly kept rolling them off her crotch, so it was easy going from there. Steve moved in and pushed her apron ahead of her. A shock of cool air hit her underbelly, and she gasped. Then she arched her upper leg to allow him easier access. Her inner thigh drooped against her crotch, but he was able to push past it.
As he dropped down to join her on the bed, he continued to digitally probe her. Body jiggling all around her, Diana's excitement built to the point where she could barely string two thoughts together. A rush of images collided in her head. Of banquets that made tonight's feast look like a snack. Of Steve feeding her more ice cream. Of Steve being fed by her. Of Diana grown even bigger, grown to the weight of her new lucky number. . .
She felt his tongue along her belly and breasts, felt her own substantial forefront press against her legs. He was tasting her left breast, pushing his face into her pendulous mams as her nipple grew between his lips. She grew more excited, as her clitoris began to enlarge inside her. It felt as if it was growing to fill her entire quarter ton body, then it suddenly released a rush of orgasm so strong that her thoughts of food momentarily were whited out. As she continued to come, however, her feast visions returned with renewed force.
As she let herself ride this sensation, Steve rose on his knees. Pulling his belly up with both hands, he aimed his erection towards the cleft of her breasts. "There are so many places on your body," he said, as he rubbed his shaft against the hang of her uppermost mam.
He was being careful this first time, so he moved down and came with the folds of her belly. As she felt the warming fluid strike her flesh, Steve reached back into her. The touch, coupled with the realization that he'd reached his finale, made Diana climax yet again.
When they both calmed down enough to catch their breaths, the pair reached for their ice cream containers. Much of the remains were soft, practically liquid. So they held the cartons to each other's lips. It was after midnight when they finally finished.
"I've been dreaming of someone like you forever," Steve said. He paused, then asked the question they both wanted to hear. "Stay the night?"
Of course, she said yes. She'd stuffed herself a year in preparation for this night, so she was going to enjoy every minute of it. What had brought her here? The power of Steve's dreams or her own awakened appetite? It ultimately didn't matter.
Diana didn't know what next day would bring, but she did know two things: she was going to reach her new lucky number, and she was going to celebrate that moment with Steve. She licked her fleshy lips in anticipation of the year ahead, then nuzzled against her new lover's well-fed form. As her forefront mashed against him, she felt both full and satisfied in a way she'd never known before. She sighed happily.
There were, she knew, plenty of buffets ahead for the two of them.
Original version copyright 1997 - Oakhaus Designs