The Party
by Thomas Richards


I had met my husband Gary in college when we both were working toward our Master's degrees in geology. We were married soon after graduation, and we both went to work for the same oil company. As a result, we always were sent to the same job locations.

First we spent a year in the Middle East; our second assignment was in California. So it was both a cultural and climactic change when the company sent us to far northern Canada. We knew it would be extremely cold for most of the year, but we looked forward to the changes. Anyway, it would only be for a year or two.

When we arrived in Canada, we were sent to a company lodge centered in a village of about 200 people. The lodge housed several employees and their spouses, and the lifestyle was almost a commune. Married couples had their own bedrooms and bathrooms, but everyone shared a kitchen and living area. The lab where we worked was a short hike from the lodge.

We were particularly drawn to two other couples who shared the lodge with us. The husbands, Bob and Frank, were also geologists. Bob's wife Judy was the lodge's cook, and Liz was a doctor who practiced in an addition built on the side of the lodge.

What also made me different was my size. Judy and Liz were both heavy, with full, round faces and large breasts, bellies and behinds. They weren't ashamed of their figures and often walked around in shorts and T-shirts despite the low temperature. On sunny days, they sometimes even sunbathed in one or two piece bathing suits.

I soon learned that Judy and Liz were the norm for the town. When the two women took me on a tour of the area, I discovered that all the women ranged from plump to very fat.
I had always admired buxom women but had held my weight at 100 pounds because it seemed to be expected. So when Judy made her huge dinners, I stuck with a small portion of vegetables and skim milk while the others all ate ravenously.

After one week at the lodge I came down with a respiratory infection that put me out of commission. I didn't have to go to the hospital, but Liz ordered me to stay in bed, giving me antibiotics.

The following week, just as I was getting over the infection, I came down with a cold. It was obvious I wasn't adjusting to the climate.

After almost three weeks of feeling bad, I went to Liz for a physical. When she finished her examination, she sat down beside me.

"It's time I leveled with you, Sue," she said. "It's obvious to me why you're always getting sick. I've been hesitant to tell you because I'm not sure how you'll take it."

"Tell me," I said.

"You can't adjust to the cold because you don't have enough body fat to keep you warm. I know you came from California, where everyone lives on cottage cheese and tofu, but it's just not practical to be skinny this far north. If you want to stay here, and stay healthy, you're going to have to fatten up."

Later that night, I lay in bed shivering, when my husband came to our room. "Quick, come and keep me warm," I said. He climbed in bed with me, and I told him what the doctor said.
Gary smiled. "If you're worried I won't love you if you put on a little weight, that's just silly," he said. "I might even surprise you by liking it."

I wasn't sure if he meant it or was just being nice, but the next day I asked Liz what I'd have to do to fatten up. She told me she already had worked out a menu for me. She said she'd give the menu to Judy, and I should report to her office first thing in the morning.

The next day I went straight to Liz's office. She greeted me and told me to take off my robe. Then she pulled out a clipboard, weighed me, and took my bust, waist and hip measurements. She asked if I felt well enough to go to work, and when I told her I didn't, she sent me to the kitchen.
The men had just finished their breakfasts and had left for the lab. Judy was still working the stove.

"Sit down," she smiled, "I have breakfast just about ready for you."

She put a large plate in front of me, piled high with French toast, sausages, and fruit. Then she put a large glass of whole milk on the table.

I looked at Liz who had just come into the kitchen. "This is three times what I usually eat."

"You can't grow fat on carrot sticks."

I smiled at her, picked up my fork, and cut through the French toast, covered in thick syrup and melted butter. I put the forkful in my mouth and let it melt. It was delicious. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. With encouragement and prodding from the two other women, I finished my plate. Toward the end I had to loosen my bathrobe sash to accommodate my growing belly.

When I swallowed the last sausage, the women applauded. I sat back in my chair with my hand on my taut belly, smiled, and let out a sigh. Liz told me to go to bed, and Judy said she would be up with lunch in about four hours.

At night we sat down for a huge dinner with the couples. No one seemed to notice that Judy was giving me extra servings, except for my husband, who looked at me and smiled.
The next day I started my routine. First I checked in with Liz to get weighed and measured; then Judy served me a huge breakfast; and then I went off to work. I returned to the lodge for a nutritious lunch, went back to work, and returned home for dinner. After dinner the other two women and I went out for a brisk walk.

By Saturday morning, it started to show. When I tried pulling on my jeans, the flaps at the zipper wouldn't come together. There was just too much belly to fit in my jeans. My husband stepped out of the bathroom and grinned. He reached forward and rubbed my stomach "Such a cute, sexy belly." he said.

"I'm trying to get ready for breakfast but I don't think I can get these pants on."

"That's okay," he said, "Slip out of them, and I'll bring you breakfast in bed."
Gary kissed me and left the room, returning soon with pancakes, eggs, bacon, muffins, and fruit.
He sat on the bed and watched me eat.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were getting turned on by me getting bigger."

"You'd be right," he replied, stroking my softening thighs. We spent most of that day in bed.
Over the next four months, I gained forty pounds. I was feeling too good to stop at 150, and under the advice of Liz and prompting from the neighbors, I continued to grow larger and larger. The fat I accumulated actually began keeping me warm.

In addition to buying new clothes, I was borrowing handme-downs from Judy and Liz. One day I came upon a photo album as Judy and I were going through her closets. When I opened the album to the first page, I found several pictures of a thin blonde with a thin brunette.

Judy saw me looking and grinned. "That's Liz and me when we came here three years ago."
I flipped the pages and in each progressive picture, Judy and Liz had filled out more and more.
"The town took care of us. They brought more food than we knew what to do with. It was just a matter of time before we filled out."

"You mean they intentionally fattened you up?"

She smiled, "With our consent. It's the custom around here. It goes back hundreds of years; the settlers found that fatter women survived better here, so it was important to fatten all the women, and encourage them to stay that way."

"I was right," I said. "The whole town was in on fattening me up."

"Of course. That's why your Gary requested this town." She blushed. "I thought you knew your husband prefers fat women. All the women who take this assignment usually return with about 100 more pounds. That's been a turn off to some couples, but they don't stay too long. People like Liz and I aren't fixated on our weights, so we didn't mind when our husbands asked to come here."
I turned the page of the photo album again, until I came to pictures of a party. All the town's chubby women were wearing bathing suits.

Judy smiled. "I guess it's time you learned about another town tradition. When a girl turns 16 we start fattening her up until she gets to 195 pounds or so. Then we have a 'growing out' party for her. The idea is to throw an all-day party around her, put her on a scale and feed her until she hits 200 pounds. It's kind of a coming out party to symbolize her growing out of her girlish clothes and becoming a woman. It's a big community event.

"We also throw parties for newcomers. These pictures are from my party. The women dress scantily to show they're not ashamed of their bodies, and they're comfortable with the climate."

"Doesn't this seem weird to you?"

"Not as weird as an American coming out party, or wedding, or prom where a girl has to starve herself to fit into a skimpy gown."

"How come there haven't been any growing out parties since I've been here?"

"There have been," she said. "You haven't been invited because you haven't had a coming out party of your own. The only women invited are already over 200 pounds."

That night I confronted Gary, who admitted he had requested this assignment because he wanted me to plump up.

I told him he was silly for not telling me all this, but he was right. I had been too weight conscious. Now I would do everything I could to have my own growing out party.

In the following months I redoubled my efforts, eating all Judy's meals and snacking inbetween. Soon I had a beautiful protruding belly, heavy, globular breasts and bulging hips. It was fun checking in with the doctor each morning, standing on her scale and watching the numbers climb, as she found it more and more difficult to wrap a tape measure around my belly.

In six months I was up to 195. Liz congratulated me and told the townspeople. The party was scheduled.

On my big day, Judy got me ready. In her bedroom she gave me the traditional garb for this occasion, a tight bikini bottom, a bikini top, and a bodice with straps that went around my neck and laced up in front where the bikini top's cups met. She laced me up tightly, confining my round, soft belly.

The party was in the town hall. I arrived late, as was the custom for the guest of honor. At first my clothes made me feel a little self-conscious, until I saw all the other women in one or two-piece bathing suits, proudly showing off their bodies. The mayor led me to a large reclining chair set up on an industrial scale in the center of the hall. When I sat down, the scale read 195.
"Let the feasting begin," the mayor said. A band started playing, and food was carried from the kitchen and to all the tables. Each woman had provided a dish to share with the community and another dish for me.

Fortunately, Judy had told me what to expect, so I hadn't eaten the whole day. Now I was hungry.
Mrs. Makowski brought up a large plate of pasta with cheese sauce. She sat down next to the scale and fed me with a fork, putting each delicious forkful in my mouth. After a few minutes, I finished the dish, and rubbed my tummy. The crowd cheered as the number on the scale advanced to 196.
Then Mrs. Willits brought up a large chicken dish with potatoes, which she fed me slowly. The crowd watched as I polished off the plate. Once again, the scale advanced one number. I was almost there.

Then Mrs. Walsh came up with a warm apple pie. She cut it into slices and fed it to me a wedge at a time. I didn't think I could do it, but the crowd applauded when she put the last slice in my mouth. My bodice was straining at the laces.

l looked up at the scale. It read 199.

I was so stuffed I couldn't move. My belly was packed full, but held in check by the bodice. I didn't think I could eat another bite, until my husband showed up with a mixing bowl full of ice cream covered with chocolate sauce.

He smiled at me. I opened wide and he spooned me the ice cream, each creamy bite melting in my mouth. Just as I thought my bodice would explode, he undid the tie and my full belly broke forth, giving me room to eat some more.

I took one more swallow and the number flashed 200. Everyone cheered.

I stood up, proud to be part of the community that took me in. I was wearing the bodice like a vest, and my unfettered belly hung over my bikini bottom. I rubbed my belly and thanked everyone, telling them I would take a bow if I weren't so full.

Months passed. My weight settled at about 210 pounds, which was probably my ideal weight anyway. Gone were the colds, and I could walk around in shorts with no discomfort. Gary liked it best when I wore hot pants and an unbuttoned shirt, tied in a knot beneath my breasts. He enjoyed watching my belly and breasts jiggle.

Word came from Corporate that another couple would be moving into the lodge. Liz introduced me to Francesca, the wife. She was a gaunt little thing. We shook hands, and sneezed. "Excuse me," she said, "I'm not accustomed to this weather yet."

"Sit down," I told her, taking a carton of ice cream out of the freezer. "I think I have just the thing for you." ß

- copyright 1994 Thomas Richards/Dimensions



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