Weight Room Title Bar

by Rebel

This is not a true story. I made this whole thing up. Any actual persons or events that I may use in this story are probably only doing things that I may wish that they would do, or things that are just to make the story a little more interesting.

I want to take a moment right now to give my heartfelt thanks to one of the most beautiful women I've never seen, who has been an inspiration to lots of us out here. Even if someone did say that she was a "terrible writer", I am grateful for every glimpse that I have been given into Melanie's life and fantasies.

And of course, if you aren't eighteen, quit reading right now. If you don't like weight gain fiction that involves sexual situations and descriptions, or sexual fiction that involves weight gain situations or descriptions, you won't like this either. Outside of that, I hope you like it...

Aug 18 I've never kept a journal before, so I don't know how to start. I got married a month ago, and I can feel myself going through some changes. That is why I bought this blank book. My father, a soldier all his life, told me that if you get lost on patrol, look back the way you came. So I guess that this is my map.

I just re-read that, and nearly erased it. That would be a great way to start a diary, huh? A bunch of roughened paper showing that I had something to hide. Besides, I'm using a pen.

Anyway, in case this falls into the hands of anthropologists in the misty future, I should tell you a little about myself. My name is Katrina Marie Shokoba Knife. I work in the security division of a major oil company, my job title is "worker bee". I am twenty-five years old, and have brown hair and blue eyes. I stand five and a half feet tall and weigh 135 pounds. All right, 138 this morning, probably a little more now. I have a bachelor's degree in business with a minor in philosophy. Don't ask me why, I'll charge you by the hour to ask you to prove that I even exist. Sorry, but there aren't that many business/philosophy jokes out there.

Last summer I met a wonderful man named Thomas Knife, a full-blooded Indian (Kiowa and Choctaw, if you must know). He is gorgeous enough to be a male stripper, tall with taut copper skin, long sable hair and even darker eyes. He was gorgeous and attentive and considerate and gorgeous and smart and funny and gorgeous. Best of all, he felt exactly the same way about me. He owns a custom home building company that normally stays in the black. Even if he had been a hobo, I would have married him just because he was so damned gorgeous! Did I mention that he was gorgeous?

Well Mister Diary, now we've been introduced. I'll talk more to you later. I wonder why I decided that you, as a bunch of blank pages bound in ox-blood leather would be masculine...?

Aug 25 Why do I feel guilty about not writing in you for a week? It's not like you sit in scarf drawer whining about "She buys me away from my brothers in the stationers, uses me one time and now she never calls, she never sent me flowers...!"

I think I should tell you about something that happened at our wedding. You know the part where the bride and groom feed each other from the cake? Well I went first, and of course I smashed white cake all over Tommy's face. Just like normal, right? So then it's his turn, and I know that I'll have a chance to fix my make up before the last wedding pictures are taken, so I'm not worried about getting a face full of cake. Tommy does not disappoint me. I get cake all over the place, then he reaches in for another bite. Most of that one I eat, with only a little getting on the dress. So what, it was a rental. Then he does it for a third time, and when he presses against me, I can feel his hard-on on my gartered thigh. I didn't think that much about it at the time.

Since then, he's been getting more affectionate every day, and the sex just keeps getting better. That's not the way that I've heard marriages work, but that's what happened to me and my Hubby. He just can't keep his hands off of my body these days. That is just too good a thing to worry about, so I happily accept it.

I haven't mentioned this to anyone but you, Mr. D. This morning the scale told me that I weighed an even 140 pounds. The more I look over these three paragraphs, the more I think that there may be a connection.

Aug 29 All right, there must be a connection here. Last night in his sleep, Tommy cuddled up to my back and put his arm over me. His hand ended up under softest part of my tummy, and then he started gently squeezing and stroking it. Then while he was still asleep, he gets this monster hard-on! Finally he woke up, and we made love for hours. WHEW!!

I would write more, but I'm already late for work. (wink-wink)

By the way, the scale said 141 this morning, and I didn't mind a bit.

<Sep 5 Okay, that was fun, but enough is enough. 144 pounds is to much on a five-six frame. I had to wear a skirt to work today because my stupid slacks won't fit. I haven't worn a skirt to work in almost a year, and the ones I have won't last much longer. True to my Eastern Europe blood, every ounce seems to be going straight to my butt. I'm just so mad I could spit!

And of course Tommy is no help at all. I mentioned to him at dinner tonight that I needed to cut back on my eating a little. First he joked that he was just too good a cook, since he does cook most of the time. Then he tried to be supportive and nice, but it's becoming clearer that he likes the extra padding on his wife. I would almost think that it was some Indian thing, except his brother William is married to this tiny little blonde, and his mother is under a hundred pounds. So I think that it's probably more of a Tommy preference than a tribal one.

Sep 13 I've been on my diet for a week now. I haven't cheated once and I'm not pregnant. I've been drinking Slim-Quix and eating raw potatoes. I have stuck to my diet for a week. The first week of a diet is when you lose the most, right? So how come I still weigh 144 pounds? I guess it's time to quit letting Tommy cook, because he really is good at it.

Sep 16 I went out and bought some new clothes today. Size twelve. I don't want to talk about it.

Sep 25 I really did intend to put important thoughts and feelings into you, Mr. D. I never meant to fill you up with constant griping about my weight. But here we go again...

Two things suck: Diets and 148 pounds.

Well, there is one more thing that sucks; Thomas Knife sucks. And he kisses and licks and caresses and fondles and... Oooh, I just gave myself a tingle. I'm starting to think that maybe carrying a little extra weight is a good thing. Not just because of the added attention from my gorgeous husband, but also because things just feel better now. My breasts bounce a little more, and I'm starting to like the way my growing butt jiggles. More than that, though, is the way that Tommy feels to me now. He's still as hard as a rock, but because I'm softer now, it feels different. Better. It's like I can touch more of him at once when we hug or when he lays on me. Last night, I could feel the orgasms that he gave me rumbling around in my butt cheeks before I came. Does that sound odd to you too?

The secret truth is that I like these new pounds. I've been shapely my whole life, but now I'm starting to feel voluptuous. And the fact that my husband seems to like it too doesn't hurt my feelings at all either.

Oct 1 I'm late for work again-- quick note..

Quit the damn diet, letting Tommy do all the cooking, weighed 150 this morning, had 6 orgasms in an hour last night!!!!

Happy Happy Joy Joy_____________