Weight Room Title Bar

by TR

Even though French class was the only one Jan hadn't dropped after getting married two weeks earlier, she was impatient for it to end--she'd hadn't had time to eat breakfast and was very hungry. She rushed home as soon as class let out.

There was nothing appetizing in the kitchen, so she went downstairs, where her husband, Frank, ran a very successful catering business. The top shelf in the refrigerator was reserved for leftovers from jobs where the clients over-ordered. They never served leftovers to clients, of course; they were kept there for Frank and his employees, and now Jan, to snack on.

"Bingo!" she said when she opened the refrigerator door. She'd struck pay-dirt--the top shelf was _piled_ with leftover hor d'oeuvres--sushi, sausages, little baby custard pies, cheese balls and cracker-and-oyster sandwiches. She heaped up a plateful, took it upstairs, nuked it and got to work on the part-time bookkeeping she did for the catering service, nibbling on hors d'oeuvres as she worked. Frank had the best catering business in town, and the hors d'oeuvres were fantastic, even if they were leftovers.

She finished the bookkeeping, her French homework and two more plates of hor d'oeuvres and then settled down on the couch to watch TV. Even though she was getting full, the hors d'oeuvres downstairs called to her.

"These are probably really fattening," she thought as she went downstairs for yet another plateful,"It's good I have a high metabolism," She wondered if people would notice that she'd eaten so much, but it turned out someone had added some fresh leftovers from yet another job (Frank's employees went in and out all the time) and the top shelf was even fuller than it had been before. She took _two_ plateloads back, this time, just to make sure she had enough.

As she lay on the couch nibbling away she reminded herself of a character in a cartoon she'd seen as a child...was it Porky Pig's girlfriend? The cartoon character had lounged around eating chocolates and had grown quite fat by the end of the cartoon. For some reason that had fascinated her.

Later on in life she started fantasizing about getting fat and found the idea quite erotic, but of course she didn't _want_ to be fat--that would be awful. She'd never known what to make of her odd fantasies and had always tried not to think about them, but every once and awhile something would remind her of them.

By the time she'd finished the hors d'oeuvres she felt quite full. And didn't start thinking about getting some more for another hour--then, before she could, Frank came home.

"Get dressed, baby," he said,"let's go out to dinner."

She was about to say she was too full, but she knew how he hated going out alone. Frank didn't even want to _think_ about cooking after a day of preparing food, and Jan was a terrible cook, so they ate out a lot.

"Where are we going?" she asked him, trying to interest herself in the idea.

"Sam's Steakhouse?"

"No, we just went there the other day."

"How about Chez When?" he asked.

"Really?" she said, suddenly enthusiastic. It was her favorite restaurant, but Frank didn't like to go very often, since it was so overpriced and they had to dress up.

"Yeah, why not?"

She put on one of her favorite slinky dresses, surprised to find out how tight it was.

"Odd," she thought,"it's not that time of the month..."

But what the hell--it was not ridiculously tight, and after all, Frank loved her in tight dresses. She put on her make-up and took a good look at herself in the mirror. "You're a knockout, kid," she told herself.

Briefly, she felt that recurrent pang of regret that she'd never made it as a fashion model ("Nice face," the agent had said,"but a bit wide in the hip). Even though it had been her mother's dream more than hers, it had been quite a disappointment. Of course, Frank was an excellent remedy for that--he thought she was the most beautiful woman in existence.

"Wow! Killer dress!" Frank exclaimed when her saw her. She almost told him he'd seen her in the dress before, but thought better of it.

Even when they got to the restaurant, she still felt pretty full. Her appetite rallied when they served the food, however, and she managed to put away a large meal. She was going to pass on dessert, but it turned out they were serving Tera Misu, her favorite dessert in the world, and she just had to have it.

"I thought you weren't that hungry," teased Frank.

"I don't _need_ to be hungry to eat here," she said, smiling.

When they got back home, Frank got undressed and into bed quickly, then watched her undress (as was his wont).

"Whoa," he said, laughing,"look at that tummy!"

Jan looked at her unusually swollen belly. She had to laugh too--it looked incongruous on her slim little body.

"Keep this up and you're going to get fat, girl!"

Jan blushed as she recalled her old fantasies.

"It'll be your fault if I do," she said, pouting now,"always taking me out to dinner at fancy restaurants, and leaving all those fattening hors d'oeuvres downstairs."

"You're right," he said,"I'm sorry. Tell you what, when I go to Peoria I'll take the key so you can't go downstairs. You'll have a whole three weeks with no restaurants or leftovers."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot you're going on that consulting thing...is that tomorrow?"


"And you really can't take me?"

"Of course I could. But it's Peoria. In the winter. And I'll be working sixteen hours a day. And you need to stay here and get that tax report done. And what about your French class?"

"But I'll _miss_ you."

"I know, I know. But it's easier this way. Anyway, if you came along there's no way I could work sixteen hours a day."

By this time she'd finished undressing and he was carressing her.

"You'd be so distracting we'd be stuck in Peoria for months."

He kissed one of her nipples, which immediately sprang erect.

"Wow! Are you ever _ready_!" he said, pulling her down into the bed with him.

After Frank left the next morning, she took a good look at herself in the mirror. To her consternation, she still had a bit of a tummy. But she was good the rest of the day, and it was gone by the following morning, a Saturday.

With some trepidation, she weighed herself for the first time in a month. She gasped as the scale hit 125--it was six pounds more than she'd ever weighed before! No wonder that dress had been tight! Oh well, she was going to be good from now on.

That afternoon, feeling peckish (her diet lunch had done little to fill her up and there was no other food in the house), she glanced at the little nail by the door to the downstairs. Frank _had_ remembered to take the key. No temptation from that corner, anyway. She looked outside--it was cold, gloomy, and rainy. It didn't inspire her to go grocery shopping, especially since she didn't drive (though Frank kept promising to teach her) and she would have to take the bus.

Absently, she tried the door to downstairs...

It wasn't locked!

Damn that Frank! she swore, eagerly rushing downstairs. She didn't bother with a plate...she just grabbed a whole tray and took it upstairs.

"As soon as I finish this tray, I'll lock the door", she thought, happily gorging herself in front of the TV. Then halfway through she got to these miniature chocolate eclairs that were just heavenly--but there were only two of them. She went downstairs to see if there were anymore, but before she could pick them out, she heard some of the employees coming in. She was dressed only in her negligee (since it was a rainy Saturday, she'd never gotten dressed) so she just grabbed another tray and hurried upstairs before they could see her.

Fortunately there were lots of eclairs, as well as these great little lobster sushi-type things...before she knew it, she eaten the entire two trays. Her belly was, if anything, even _more_ swollen than the other day.

Frank's voice echoed in her mind: "Keep this up and you're going to get fat, girl!" and immediately she felt incredibly turned on. It was surprising...she rarely felt this aroused without a lover around. Out of curiousity, she felt herself--sure enough, she was dripping wet down there. Then her hand brushed her clitoris...oh God, that felt good! She felt kind of guilty--she _never_ masturbated. It didn't usually work very well. But somehow that nascent pot-belly of hers excited her enormously. She touched it lightly again...oh, that was nice...soon she was fondling herself feverishly and before she knew what was happening, had a terrific orgasm.

"Wow!" she thought, amazed,"I did it!"

For she'd never managed to have an orgasm by herself before.

The next day, feeling impossibly embarrassed, she went out and bought a vibrator and some x-rated videos.

The videos were all right, and the vibrator was pretty nice, she discovered later that afternoon, but she didn't get very turned on. Then, a little later, when she was in the bathroom, she decided to weight herself. The scale slid right past 125 without even hesitating and came perilously close to 127.

"I really am getting fat!" she thought, but before she had a chance to get upset about it, she felt a wonderful tingling in her loins. She headed straight for the vibrator. It worked pretty well, and brought her to the edge, but she wasn't able to come until she thought: "Maybe I'll have another couple of traysful of hors d'oeuvres." That nearly did the trick, so she thought: "Okay, I'll _definitely_ have two more trays!"

And then, as she imagined eating two more trays of food and the weight-gain that would result, it happened again--that wonderful wave of sexual gratification. Much as she liked making love with Frank, this was nicer in some ways. She could take as much time as she wanted, and not worry about what he was feeling.

She immediately fetched the couple of extra trays she'd promised herself (somehow, she'd never gotten around to locking the door). Happily there were plenty of the mini eclairs, and, as it turned out, a really yummy kind of sausage that she'd never had before. Her belly started expanding once more. She thought of what Frank would say if he saw it, and immediately got very aroused. She ate and masturbated, finally coming when she finished the last hors d'oeuvre.

She lay on the couch in a kind of blissful stupor for a few minutes, then started worrying.

"This is it," she thought,"this is the last time I can do this."

She got up to lock the door to downstairs, but on the way some of the food settled and she belched (very discreetly, of course) and realized she still had a little room left.

"Since it's my last night, I might as well enjoy myself," she thought, and went downstairs for another tray, wondering if it was possible to come three times in the same day.

It was.

Monday morning she lay in bed, feeling her still-somewhat bloated belly and wondering how much of it was food she hadn't digested yet and how much was fat that had taken up residence.

"I'm really going to be good today," she told herself, getting up to lock the door. The only trouble was, she realized when she got there, there was no way to lock it from the kitchen side without the key--she would have to lock it from the other side, go downstairs and through the employee area, then back up through the front door. There were already some people working down there, and it would be embarrassing to explain to them what she was doing walking out through their area (for some reason, she found herself very shy around the employees).

"I'll just lock it tonight when they've left," she decided.

And she would have, too, if she hadn't happened to catch a certain documentary on TV that afternoon. It was about a tribe in New Guinea that had a very odd custom. When girls in the tribe became nubile, they were shut up in cages to keep them inactive and then they were fed very well. They were not let out of the cages until they got fat. A fat wife was a status symbol in this tribe--the fatter the better.

The narrator of this documentary sounded awfully disapproving, but just one look at the plump, scantily-clad girls stuffing themselves was more erotic than any X-rated video Mary had ever seen. She immediately got very hot and bothered and started masturbating.

"Oh my," she said to herself, after a lovely orgasm. How wonderful it would be to be one of those girls! she thought. To get nice and fat because you were expected to! To just eat and eat...she started getting hot all over again, but couldn't quite manage to come a second time. Maybe a tray or two of hors d'oeuvres would help...

"I've _really_ got to lock that damn door!" she sighed, as she climbed on the scale the next morning, hoping self-disgust would inspire her to quit eating so much. Today the scale was on the fat side of 127.

"Not _too_ bad," she thought. Then she had an idea...Frank was going to be gone for three weeks...if she spent one week gaining weight, and two weeks losing weight, she would be back to normal by the time he returned. "Why," she thought, "I could gain another two or three pounds!"

Just the thought of it sent her to her vibrator.

The next Saturday, four days, _five_ pounds, and countless wonderful hours of eating and masturbating later, found her staring dourly at herself in the mirror. At 132 pounds, she was not fat yet, nor even plump, but there was a decadent softness to her body that had never been there before. Her tummy, which, for a change, was more or less empty, had not attained true pot-bellyhood, but had a voluptuous roundness to it that suggested it had at least filled out an application.

She felt contradictorily proud and ashamed of all her excess weight, but there was no confusion with how she felt about the dieting to come. That was pure dread.

"This is all Frank's fault," she moaned,"why couldn't he have locked the door? The jerk!"

Then she had an inspiration. Why not teach him a lesson? Sure, she would diet when he came back, but why not give him a taste of how fat a wife he'd end up with if he wasn't more careful? I'm not rationalizing, she told herself--it's only incidental that it means I get to gain another ten pounds or so...she immediately felt a powerful tingling in her nether regions and went right downstairs for a tray of food.

But there were no leftovers that morning. Too impatient to take the bus, she ordered a cab to take her out food shopping. She squeezed into her largest pair of jeans, and managed to button all but the top button. She had to wear a large sweater and drape it over the jeans.

She called in orders to several of her favorite restaurants and went around in the cab picking them up. Her jeans were so tight they gave her a little sexual rush every time the cab went over a bump. She started eating after they picked up the first order and found it incredibly erotic, in a kind of naughty way. She wondered if she might come right there in the back seat of the cab.

By the time they got to the last restaurant, all the buttons of her jeans had become undone...she had to ask the cabbie to take her to a clothing store first.

"Uh, could you go in and get me a pair of stretch pants?" she asked the cabbie.

"Hunh? Whyn't you go?" he asked.

"I'm having kind of a pants crisis," she said.

"What do you mean?"

She was so embarrassed it made her mad.

"I'm too fat for my fucking pants, you obtuse asshole! Now please get me some stretch pants!"

They arrived at the Chinese restaurant where she was picking up the last order of food. The stretch pants were a bit snug, but at least she could wear them. It was now too warm to wear her sweater, so she left it in the cab.

"Jan!" she heard, as she was paying for her order. She turned around--it was Leslie, one of her bridesmaids, who she hadn't seen since the wedding.

"Oh! Hi Les! Fancy seeing you here!"

Leslie eyes were wide as she took Jan in.

"Guess married life suits you," she teased,"you're really filling out!"

Jan blushed, embarrassed, but somehow pleased at the same time...she was not only gaining weight, but it was obvious.

"Yes, it's great," she told Leslie,"it's a lot of fun being married to a caterer."

Leslie didn't know quite how to take this.

"I've really got to get back," said Jan,"Call me! Let's have lunch sometime!"

She was so embarrassed she didn't eat anything else on the ride home. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror in the hall, trying to imagine how she must have looked to Leslie. The stretch pants and t-shirt she was wearing did nothing to hide all the extra pounds--if anything they emphasized that bit of tummy bulge, the fuller breasts.

"What a pig I am," she thought,"And if I eat all this take-out, I probably won't even _fit_ in these pants."

It sounded like a wonderful idea.

Finally the morning of Frank's return arrived. She lay in bed, pondering her situation. She'd had a wonderful three weeks...somehow the more weight she gained, the more she enjoyed masturbating, and the more the ordinary act of eating gained a magical sexual edge to it.

But now the reasoning she'd used to justify her autoerotic orgy seemed more and more tenuous. What if Frank was really grossed out? What if he quit loving her? After all, she'd gained almost eighteen pounds while he was gone! Correction--after last night, her farewell feast, it had to be _over_ eighteen.

Gingerly she felt her belly. While it was still not quite a fat belly, it had a stubborn plumpness to it that couldn't be denied. She also had love handles, now. If she leaned to one side, a chubby little roll of fat would form at her hip. Experimentally, she felt her breasts. He should like _these_, anyway, she thought. They'd always been nicely shaped, but she'd often wished they were larger. Now they were more than a match for any but the best-endowed Playboy Centerfold model.

Then she dozed off--she'd been worrying so much that night that she hadn't had much sleep. She woke up to Frank kissing her on the neck and carressing her...he'd snuck in, taken his clothes off and gotten into bed with her!

"Rise and shine, lazybones," he said,"I've been missing you so much that--whoa!"

He'd reached one of her fattened-up breasts. Then his hand went down and felt her plump tummy. Astonished, he took off her covers and took a good look. And started laughing.

"I thought I took that key with me!" he said.

"Yes, but you didn't lock the door," she said, trying to work up some accusatory anger,"so I decided to teach you a lesson."

He laughed even more.

"What are you laughing about?" she asked.

"You," he said,"you're silly. Why didn't you just lock the door yourself?"

"I told you. I figured if I put on some weight, you'd learn to be more careful."

"Sure," he said,"now tell me the truth."

"That _is_ the truth!"

"Then why are you blushing?"

"Because...you're being such a jackass!"

"Admit it. You're a feedee, aren't you?"

"Hunh? What's that?"

"It's someone who gets a sexual charge out of gaining weight."

She was stunned.

"You mean...there are other people like me?"

"Yes," he said, grinning at her admission.

"How did you know I was a...feedee?"

"I wasn't sure, but I suspected the night before I left, from the way you got all turned on by your swollen tummy and my commenting on it. You were more into sex that night than I'd ever seen you. Then I come home today, there's a vibrator in the living room, lots of empty hors d'oeuvres trays and empty takeout food cartons in the kitchen, extra pounds on the wife in the bedroom...it all adds up."

He was softly carressing her genital area right then, even though her vagina was locked up tight, completely dry and uninterested. Still, she was too amazed at what he was saying to protest.

"Well...aren't you angry or anything?" she asked.

"God no! I can't believe how lucky we are."


"Because I'm a feeder. I like to fatten women up. I want like to feed you fattening goodies until your belly swells up like a basketball."

He laughed again as her vagina almost instantly dampened and loosened in response. She gasped in delight as he used his hand to diddle her expertly (another of his talents). They made love, and it was incredibly nice. She usually couldn't have an orgasm in the morning, but now she came quickly and deliciously.

"Why didn't you tell me you were a feeder?" she asked him a little later.

"Well, after my last wife left me...I never told you the complete truth about why she left me. She left me because she was getting fat."

"You mean you fed her even though she didn't want you to?"

"Not exactly. See, I respected her wish to lose weight, and didn't try to tempt her or anything. But she had a hard time keeping her weight down anyway, and it was really hard around me. I tried to complement her when she lost weight, but she knew my preference and could tell my heart wasn't in it. And any time she felt like blowing her diet, there I was, perfectly happy to take her out to a nice fattening meal, or serve her breakfast in bed, or whatever. She finally left me, because she didn't want to be fat.

"So I decided that if I got married again, I'd keep the feeder side of me under wraps...but with you being a feedee, well, it's just too good to hide. Know what I mean?"

"Actually, I really didn't hear much of what you said after that breakfast in bed thing...what was that like?"

Frank smiled broadly.

"Hang on...I'll show you."

He fed her coffee, cheese omelettes, sausages, home fries, and blueberry waffles with whipped cream until her belly achieved record size. She showed it off to him and felt proud as his eyes lit up in admiration. They made love again, more slowly and sweetly than before.

"Wow," she gasped,"that was the best yet!"

Monday morning, the day after the best weekend of her life so far (the weekend when Jan discovered her husband Frank was a feeder and he found out she was a feedee) Jan woke up to the sound of Frank getting dressed.

"Sorry to wake you baby," he said softly,"I've to to get to work."

She performed a mock-groan.

"Does that mean no breakfast in bed this morning?"

He smiled.

"I'm afraid so. Save that appetite, though, and I'll give you a dinner in bed you'll never forget."

"Okay...oh shit!" she sat up suddenly.

"What's the matter?"

"I'm supposed to have lunch with my mother today! She'll freak when she sees how fat I am! What am I going to do?"

"Wear loose clothes?"

"Come on. I haven't seen her since the wedding!"

Frank looked at the slim young bride smiling in the wedding photo on the dresser, then at the chubby version frowning on the bed. He sat down next to her and kissed her.

"Tell her you're not sure, but you think I'm a cannibal and I'm fattening you up to be a main course at the next feast."

"Come on, get serious!"

"Well, you could postpone your lunch for a couple of weeks and diet frantically till you're your old self again..."

She rolled her eyes. "I said _serious_!"

"Okay. You could tell her the truth..."

"That I'm getting fat on purpose because it's a sexual turn-on for me and my husband?"

"Why not?"

"...I kind of like it, at least the part where I tell her I'm doing it on purpose. She would find that so irrational she wouldn't even know how to argue about it. But she might think it's too bizarre...any other ideas?"

"Hmmm. How about that story you tried to sell me? That you gained weight to teach me not to leave the door to the leftovers open?"

"That might work...but how will I explain the _next_ thirty pounds?"

"Really?" Frank said, grinning happily,"you're going to gain _another_ thirty?"

She laughed at his obvious delight.

"I guess. I mean, it seems inevitable, doesn't it?"

"How fat are you going to get, anyway?"

She shrugged and gave him a coy smile,"I don't know...how fat do you want me?"

"God!" he said, getting undressed and back into bed,"what a great answer!"

"You're going to be late for work," she said with a grin.

"You're damn straight I am."

Later she went shopping for a dress to meet her mother in. She couldn't believe how many sizes she'd leaped-frogged over.

"I'll have to shop at the fat stores pretty soon," she thought.

She tried to find a dress to hide the extra weight, but they all made her look like someone with extra weight to hide, suggesting that she was even fatter than she actually was. She switched to the presumption that the extra weight was beautiful and found a nice dress almost immediately.

She headed over to meet her mother--the restaurant was at the other end of the shopping mall. It was hard not to rub her newly-plumpened thighs together as she walked, but there was something erotic about the consequent soft whisper of her panty-hose...too bad she didn't have time to slip into the bathroom and...but there was her mother.

"Hi Mom!" she said. Sure enough, her mother was stunned.

"Jan," she gasped,"what...how..."

The waitress came and led them to their table. Jan went over the two rules she made for herself: Don't apologize and don't promise.

They sat down to order lunch.

"Jan," said her mother, who was never one to mince words, "you're getting fat!"

Jan blushed with embarrassment, but felt a sneaking kind of erotic thrill at the same time.

"I know Mom," she said, as the waitress approached to take their order,"It's because I've been eating a lot."

She was too chicken to pig out in front of her Mom, however, and limited herself to a Ceasar salad and a glass of wine.

"But _why_ are you eating so much?" asked her mother.

Jan shrugged.

"It's a lot of fun."

"But you're getting fat!"

"I thought we already established that."

"Don't talk back to me!"

"Uh...okay, what was your question, exactly?"

"Well...why do you eat so much when it's making you get fat?"

"It's fun. And I don't mind getting fat."

"What does Frank say?"

"He doesn't mind either..."

But her mother kept badgering her and badgering her. It grew quite annoying after a while.

"Well, look at it this way," she joked,"you always wanted me to be a model...maybe now I can become a _large_ model!"

Her mother paused. She looked shocked.

"Really? Would you?"

"...Sure! Why not?"

"You know, that might work..."

"Think so?"

"Yes...except you're too thin. You know, you really should have something more than that salad...how about the steak? That looks good. They give you a nice baked potato, too, with lots of butter and sour cream."

Frank laughed as she related this story to him that evening.

"I don't believe it!" he said,"You're _mother_ wants you to get fat?"

"She ordered me this huge lunch and even had them roll the dessert tray around afterward. She made me pick the biggest, gooiest one."

"I hope you're not too full for dinner in bed."

"Of course not!"

Frank kissed her goodbye early the next morning--he had to fly back to Peoria on business.

"No, don't get up," he said,"just relax."

"I'm going to miss you!" she said,"I might start pining away!"

"Just drown your sorrows in food," he said, patting her soft tummy.

"Don't worry. I'll be a lot plumper by the time you get back."

"God, you're too good to be true. Could you..."

"Weigh myself? Sure."

He loved watching her weigh herself. He helped her up (she was heavy enough now that she really liked being helped up) and followed her into the bathroom.

She got on the old spring scale (much sexier than an electronic one, somehow, the way it squeaked more loudly and the dial spun more rapidly with every new pound she aquired, and that moment of suspense as it slowed down and closed in on the number...)

"One fifty-one" breathed Frank,"thirty-two pounds since we've been married...thank you _so_ much..." he started kissing her and fondling her...

"You're going to miss your plane, babe" she told him.

"Oh, _shit_!" he said, looking at his watch. He kissed her one more time and fled.

In some ways she was glad he was gone. When he was around he would pop in at odd times...she felt too embarrassed to use her vibrator unless she was sure she had the place to herself. Also, when Frank was around, she had to be careful not to eat too much during the day, because he liked her to eat a lot when he took her out or made dinner for her. Now, with him gone, she could lounge around and eat all she wanted. The tingling she had felt when she'd weighed herself (Frank wasn't the only one turned on by the scale) and which had become stronger when he kissed her goodbye, now became a warm clitoral twinge.

She rushed downstairs to get some hors d'oeuvres. She had to pass though a short hallway where they'd stuck a small table. My hips have grown wider! she realized--now they brushed against the wall and the table as she walked through.

By the time Frank drove away, Jan was reclining on the couch in the living room, eating leftovers from the night before and skillfully using her vibrator. It was bliss...she was gaining weight, and not only did her husband approve, her _mother_ even approved. She was _really_ going to get fat! Those girls in New Guinea had nothing on her!

That evening her friend Leslie called.

"Still want to do lunch?" asked Leslie.

"Great!" said Jan,"how about that new place in the mall? Rockin' Robin's? I've been wanting to try it."

"I don't know...I think their whole menu's fattening."


Leslie laughed,"Jan, you're unbelievable!"

Jan was a little nervous meeting her friend the next day. She wore her new dress, which was already getting a bit snug.

Sure enough, Linda was amazed.

"Is this really you?" she said, prodding Jan's tummy, pinching one of her budding love handles, even squeesing one of her breasts a little.

"Hey!" said Jan,"yes of course it's me. I'm trying to gain a few pounds...I want to be a large model."

Leslie gaped at her.


"Yes. Why not? And let's eat, I'm starved."

Leslie watched enviously as Jan put away a fried-shrimp appetizer, a Kaluha milkshake, a deluxe cheeseburger, french fries, another shake, and piece of cherry pie. Jan almost ordered a piece of cheesecake as well, but her dress was getting so tight she was afraid she'd burst right out of it.

"You're lucky," said Leslie,"I wish I could eat like that."

"Why can't you?"

"I'm too worried about getting fat. But you don't care...you even _want_ to get fat! It's unbelievable!"

"I'm getting there, too, don't you think?" asked Jan with a smile. She sat up and patted her tummy proudly. The rear seam of her dress immediately ripped.

"Might as well have that cheesecake, now," thought Jan.

A couple of mornings later Jan was checking herself out in the mirror. If her tummy had filled out a pot-belly application before, now it was well along in the apprenticeship program. Her whole body had a lush plumpness to it, a suggestion of sensual greediness that turned her on immensely. But before she turn on her vibrator, the phone rang. It was her mother.

"Jan!" she said,"I found this great place for us to have lunch!"

"Is the food fattening?"

"Of course!" ever since Jan had announced her intention to become a large model, her mother had been intent on fattening her up,"I'll come by and pick you up in fifteen minutes."

"Uh...better make it an hour," said Jan softly, rubbing herself with the vibrator but not turning it on yet,"I've got something to take care of..."

A couple of months later, Jan woke up at about eleven o'clock to the rumble of her greedy stomach. How nice it was that she didn't have to model. She had been very good at it and gotten a lot of work, possibly because she loved being fat and got so much positive feedback about it from Frank--she felt beautiful, and projected that to the camera.

But months of Frank's pampering had taken their toll--modeling was a lot of work for someone as self-indulgent as Jan had grown. Besides it interfered with her favorite pastimes--sex, masturbation, and eating. She soon grew tired of it. Frank's catering business was doing so well that they didn't need the money, so she quit.

She rolled out of bed (Frank had thoughtfully raised it up a bit to spare her the exertion of heaving herself up out of it) and waddled into the bathroom. She admired her nice, round, sassy potbelly and her full, luscious breasts in the mirror as she weighed herself. The scale stopped just before hitting 180. She weighed half again as much as when she'd been married! And she'd gained that second thirty pounds she'd promised Frank.

"I wonder if I should gain another thirty?"

She looked at herself again and tried to imagine herself with yet another thirty pounds on her and immediately found herself getting excited.

"Guess I'd better get started," she thought happily. Her stomach rumbled again, as if to second the motion, and she headed downstairs to the basement for some hor d'oeuvres. The stairs squeaked and groaned much more than when she'd first moved in.

When she got downstairs, she had to turn sideways to get past the table in the hall...her hips were simply too wide to get through. Even sideways was going to be a tight fit pretty soon. "Won't it be funny," she thought, giggling, "if I get so fat I get stuck on the way to the refrigerator?"

Soon she was back upstairs, stuffing herself on hors d'oeuvres and channel surfing. Frank had recently placed a mirror next to the television, angled so she could admire her growing body from the sofa. She stopped when she got to an excercise show. It made her feel deliciously naughty, the way all those skinny girls excercised frantically, trying to get even _thinner_, while she lazily fed on fattening goodies and watched her belly expand...oooh...where _was_ that vibrator, anyway?