View Full Version : The Loaner (SSBHM, XWG)

09-17-2015, 06:58 AM
The Beginning

I stand naked and a bit groggy in a strange room and a man I have never seen before tells me "take a load off my fat friend, sit down and savor the endless feast we're about to serve you." He is much younger than me and in incredible shape, very much unlike me. He turns and points across the room to another young man whose body is even more chiseled and who is holding a silver serving platter piled high with chocolate eclairs and explains "your wife has graciously 'loaned' you to us for a few weeks and we plan to be most gracious hosts," before adding with a wink, "satisfying your every need ..."

I seat myself in a very wide and extremely comfortable upholstered chair and am happy to finally relieve the pressure my advanced weight is putting on my poor old knees. As I sit down, however, the weight of my belly forces my legs widely apart and seemingly hundreds of pounds of excess belly blubber tumble into the gap. That puts a grin on the faces of both my hosts as Host #1 slides a small table in front of me and Host #2 sets down the platter of delicious-looking eclairs. I'm starving and attempt to purloin one of the treats but my belly is just too ponderous to reach over, causing my hosts to grin at each other again. After the third try at reaching the platter fails, #2 plucks an eclair from the platter and gently lifts it to my eager mouth with one hand while gently resting his other hand on my protruding belly. "That tastes good, doesn't it?," he asks and I shake my head in the affirmative. Then he says, "don't worry my fat friend, this platter is ALL for you and we'll feed them to you until every last one is gone ... all two dozen."

Although my head is still a bit fuzzy, the thought of eating two dozen eclairs is quite the turn on. I've eaten a lot over the past year or so, but never that much in one sitting and I wonder if I'm up for it. The most my wife had ever gotten into me was a dozen and I was in a food coma for hours after that! But then again, that was probably 75 pounds ago and my belly had become significantly stretched since then.

As #2 started feeding me a second eclair, he inserted the thumb of his free hand into my gaping belly button and wrapped his other four fingers around my bottom belly roll, rocking it gently back and forth. "Such a big belly ... such a soft belly," he muttered, before adding "and it's going to be so much bigger and so much softer by the time we return you to your wife in a few weeks." "Yes," #1 said, "she is going to be so pleased with the results ... and we think you will too, our greedy little piggy."

My Backstory

Still gently rocking my belly back and forth and now feeding me my fourth eclair, fitness guy #2 adds, "yes, we hope you will be very content in your stay with us, Marcel (#1's name obviously) and I aim to please with our guests." "Particularly the cute ones like you," Marcel added gratuitously.

As he pops the first bite of eclair # 5 in my mouth, #2 (whose name I still didn't know) says "I must say, your wife's description of you didn't do you justice." Between bites, I manage to ask "what did she say?"

"You tell him Marcel!" "OK Serge," Marcel responded.

"Of course, she said you were devastatingly handsome, and she was definitely on the mark there, with that full Santa Claus beard and all, you're just quite the sexy daddy type!"

"But she didn't tell us just how enormous you were," Serge sputtered, while popping the last bite of eclair # 5 in my mouth.

"Yes," Marcel continued, "she definitely undersold you on that point! I mean she told us you like to eat, A LOT, and had gained over 150 pounds in the last two years, but we still didn't expect you to be as big a boy as you are!"

Squeezing my rolls with greater intensity as I started eclair #6, Serge excitedly uttered, "we were expecting a mere 400 pounder, but you must be closer to 500 pounds ... and it all seems to be in your belly! I could just feed you all day and watch these rolls grow larger and larger until they almost touch the floor!"

"Down Serge," Marcel barked, "you'll have lots of time every day to feed our very fat friend! After all, his wife wants him extra plump when we send him back."

By eclair #10, they both seemed quite impressed by my ability to consume vast quantities of food, and Marcel relieved Serge on the feeding duty, but not before grasping my huge apron with both hands, kneading it like raw dough, and gasping at its sheer heft. "You are one sexy load my Piggy friend," he said, as he proffered the first bite of eclair #11. As #12 went down the hatch, he got talkative again and shared more of what my wife had told them about me.

"Your wife thought you might need a confidence boost too, along with a few extra pounds." "Mmmmffff?," I mumbled with my mouth full of custard and chocolate. "You know," Serge piped in, "having lost your job last month because your employer thought you were too fat." "Ridiculous," added Marcel, "you look perfect to us, those fat rolls are just so incredible, I can't believe they fired a sexy guy like you!" Before I could say anything, eclair #13 was in my mouth, and Serge continued, "you should sue the fat bashing bastards, that is if your wife wasn't so rich ..." "Yes," added Marcel, "she's got enough money and loves you so much that you can be as fat as you want!" "And," Serge chuckled and grabbed a handful of my fat for emphasis, "from the way you are demolishing these eclairs, it looks like you want to get a WHOLE LOT fatter my friend!"

They finally gave me a chance to pause from eating and Serge asked again, "are we right, you want to get so much fatter than you are now?"

I reflected momentarily and said, "maybe I do." They both smiled and laid a hand on my belly, before Serge said, "well you're in the right place then!"

"You know," Marcel added, "you were lucky getting fired, it gives you so much more time to focus on your eating and growing this sexy belly even bigger!"

"No more going to work every day," Serge exclaimed, "you can just eat to your belly's fill all day long, you just have to bring your appetite and we'll supply the food!"

Then Serge gets a particularly lustful look on his face, and hands me eclair #13 before launching into a soliloquy of sorts, as if Marcel and I weren't even in the room ...

"He used to be an executive ... #2 guy in the company ... commanding respect ... attention ... even fear ... women adored him and men wanted to be him ... but his appetite gets the better of him ... he's always been a little fat ... alright a LOT fat ... but he balloons past 300 pounds ... then 400 pounds ... then 450 ... and his wife loves it ... she wants him big ... not just big ... enormous ... a human mountain of lard that's all hers to play with ... well, maybe ours too while he's here ... and he's complicit in it all ... he loves it all too ... just eating and eating and eating ... consequences be damned ... he seems content to get fatter and fatter ... his belly growing even more enormous ... his gluttony knows no bounds ... left to his own devices he'll eat his way to 800 pounds ... easily."

By then, Marcel has got me working on my 16th eclair and I have quite the erection going on underneath my apron, just thinking about what these two feeders are going to do my figure over the next few weeks!

Suddenly Serge snaps out of his trance-like soliloquy, grabs me by my fat cheeks with one hand, and asks "does that sound about right Piggy?"

"Uhhh huhhhh," I mumble through my mouth full of eclair. "Outstanding," he shouts and slaps my belly hard with his other hand, "now let's get the rest of these eclairs into that massive belly of yours ... we don't want to disappoint the wife do we?"

09-17-2015, 07:01 AM
More Eclairs

"No, we can't disappoint Mrs. Pig," Marcel chimed in, "after all she's the one paying the bills!" "That's right our piggy friend," Serge warbled as he inserted his thumb in my belly button again and gave my belly a particularly violent shake, "a thousand dollars for every pound we add to you over the next six weeks!" I swallow hard at that news, realizing that my wife really does love me fat! Before I can respond, however, eclair #17 goes into my mouth and I begin savoring its sweet sugary taste ... God, I thought, I might actually polish off the entire second dozen ... no wonder I'm so f**king fat!

"I'm glad you're such a hungry man," Serge goes on, "I love feeding a sexy beast like you, but as big an appetite a you have, you're also going to make Marcel and I so much money." Marcel smiles at that thought, then walks around to the back of my chair and starts massaging the big slabs of fat around my shoulder blades. "Does that feel good, my friend?" As I'm now chewing on eclair #17, I shake my head yes, and Marcel continues, "that's good, we want you nice and relaxed while you're with us so all the food will go down so much smoother and you'll grow fatter and fatter for us." Then he bends his head down and whispers in my ear, "you'll enjoy adding all those pounds, won't you Mr. Pig?" "Yes," Serge continued, as he popped in eclair #18, "you'll never have to worry about going to work again, you can just become the fat man you've always dreamed about being ... the Mrs. told us that you admitted to her that as a teenager you'd always fantasized about someone fattening you up to obscene proportions ... 600 ... 800 ... a thousand pounds ... and we're here to help you live out that fantasy."

Marcel started massaging my shoulder blades more furiously and whispered in my ear again, "is that getting you excited Fat Boy?," then continued, "no need to answer, I know it is ... it's always been your dream ... but now it's going to be your destiny, all thanks to your loving wife ... and Serge and me ... we're going to get you so fat that your old business associates will never recognize you." That made Serge giggle like a girl, and he added "so fat your wife won't recognize much less be able to make love to you!"

Although my anger is rising, my lust is rising even more. My lust to be bigger, fatter, to totally overflow this chair, to be alone so I can reach under my belly to satisfy my urges. I find myself unconsciously pawing at my belly apron trying to reach underneath. "Somebody is excited, isn't he?," Marcel squeals with delight, and addresses Serge, "let's give Mr. Pig here a break from eating and let him go lay down to ... do whatever he wants to do for a few minutes, then we'll come back and feed him the last of the eclairs."

"Can't we stay and watch?," Serge pleads. "NO," Marcel answers sharply, "we're under strict orders from Mrs. Pig!."

Alone Time

Marcel and Serge each extend a hand to help pull me out of my soft chair and, after the third try, I am finally on my feet and moving gingerly, my head spinning from all the sugar in the eighteen eclairs I have consumed so far and my belly aching from the obscene amount of chocolate, custard, and cake sloshing around inside it. If I don't already weigh 500 pounds, then I sure feel like I do, as I move slowly and not too steadily toward a king sized bed only a few feet away. Fortunately I have both of my heavy arms draped over the muscular shoulders of my two feeders. "You can make it Fat Man," Marcel encouraged, "just a few more piggy steps and then we'll leave you alone for a bit."

"Do you need another eclair?," Serge asks in a most solicitous tone. Despite feeling absolutely stuffed, my willpower won't allow me to answer "no," and instead I say "perhaps just one more, they are so delicious ..." "Yes, they are," Marcel responds, "and they're all for you Fat Man and we want you to eat them all so you can get fatter and fatter for your loving wife." "You know you want them all, don't you my fat friend?," Serge whispers in my ear and grabs a big handful of my ass cheek. When I don't answer immediately, he squeezes harder and asks "don't you Fatty?" "OK, OK," I respond, "yes, I'm a big tub o' lard and I can't resist food and I can't wait to finish these eclairs and see what you have in store for me next ... are you guys satisfied now?"

"Now that's the can do attitude we've been waiting for!," Marcel shouts and grabs a big handful of my other ass cheek, before depositing me on the bed. "Serge, fetch the rest of the eclairs for our friend and set them on the bed next to him, while I get him settled in." There are four big pillows on the bed and he arranges them so I can sit up a bit in bed, then he has me lay down, and asks "now are you going to be able to reach everything? ... that belly is awfully big and your wife might not mind too much if we do a little 'housekeeping' ... do you need any help Big Guy?" I glare at him and assure him my arms are long enough for the task! By then Serge arrives with the silver platter and the six remaining eclairs and picks one up and brings it to my mouth so that I can take a big bite. And, of course, his free hand strays down to my belly, thumb again placed in my belly button, rocking my rolls to and fro. "Is our Big Man nice and comfy?," he coos, then continues "just lay back and think about your destiny, to be the fat man of your dreams and your wife's dreams ... and our dreams ... and how incredible it will be to carry around hundreds of more pounds than you're carrying now ... how you'll keep expanding until you fill up this entire bed ... your belly mounded so high that you won't be able to see your wife ... or us ... as we approach you in bed ... you'll be at least six times the size of your wife and almost three times the size of Marcel and I combined ... heavier than any circus fat man ... and that will just be the start!" "Does that sound pretty cool?," Marcel asks, handing me another eclair.

Pathetically perhaps, I shake my head yes and greedily consume eclair #20 while my erection rages on even harder after Serge's predictions of how fat I will ultimately become.

"I think our work is done for now," Marcel says, "let's leave our fat friend alone and go prepare for his next feeding." "I'd love to stay and help you," Serge leers, "but we have work to do ... if you liked these eclairs, you're going to LOVE what we have in store for you next ... it's going to make you extra extra fat ... and when it's all gone you'll be squeeling like an overstuffed pig for more!"

09-17-2015, 07:04 AM
The Stuffing Continues

I awaken to the sound of wheels clattering on the room's hard tile floor. I'm in a really awkward position, my back twisted so that my belly is resting on its side, spreading out wide across the expanse of the king-sized bed, while my buttocks are still more or less resting on the bed and my legs spread wide. I remember now that was the easiest way to get my belly out of the way so that I could reach between my legs to satisfy the raging hard on that had developed from all the food and all of Serge's trash talk about how fat I was. The sad thing is that he had been right -- I had eaten myself so fat that it was now near impossible to reach my favorite plaything and this odd contorted position was the only way I could find now to get my belly out of the way enough to gain access! And even more galling is that in another fifty, and certainly another hundred pounds, even this position won't work anymore. I may have to resort to someone ... Serge ... Marcel ... my wife ... to facilitate things at that point ... what a truly sad state of affairs that will be ... too damn fat to get my own self off!

Soon the loud clacking of the wheels stops and a heavy duty stainless steel food cart is beside the bed, Serge at the helm as he appears the stronger of the two and the thing must weigh hundreds of pounds between all the steel and all the food crammed on its three tiers of shelves.

Marcel comes around and lays his hands on my belly spread before him, while Serge kneels on the bed between my legs that are still spread wide and says, "it looks like you found a way to ... you know ... after all!" And Marcel says, "yes, it's a miracle what you can accomplish when you get this big old thing out of the way," grabbing two big handfuls of my belly blubber and giving it a good shake." "Still," Serge added, "it looks like your plaything is buried pretty deep in that fat pad between your legs, isn't it Piggy? ... let's see if we can coax it out with the thought of you getting even fatter from all this food we have you ... we have all your fatty favorites ... or at least all the ones your wife told us about ..."

"Yes Piggy," Marcel chimed in, "a whole pot roast with gravy, a tray of lasagna, spiced shrimp already peeled and ready to pop in your fat mouth, a pound of mashed potatoes, a whole loaf of french bread sliced and broiled in the over with butter, corn on the cob soaked in butter ..." "But that's not all our morbidly obese friend," Serge continued, "the desserts, oh the desserts ... three different pies and when you're ready, we'll bring in the ice cream a la mode to top them off. "You're gonna be lucky if that belly doesn't explode from all the food we're gonna stuff in you! Are you ready Fatty?"

"Oh look," Marcel says, pointing to between my legs, "our fat friend must be ready 'cause look what popped out of its fat-encased nest!" Serge laughs out loud and pats me fondly on the belly, "food really is a sexual experience for you isn't it Fat Man?" I shrug my shoulders, give a little smile, and say "help me sit up boys, I'm really hungry!"

Move Those Legs Together

"Would you be more comfortable sitting in the chair?," Marcel asks. "Probably," I say, "but hand me one of those corn on the cobs first, just to tide me over." "Here," Serge says, "have some shrimp too," and he brings one to my lips which I happily accept.

Amazingly after consuming two dozen eclairs just three hours earlier, I find myself incredibly hungry again and in maybe a minute flat I devour the corn on the cob that Marcel tenders me, with butter-soaked kernels that don't make it to my mouth falling on my belly below. Serge brushes them off, sending ripples through my fat and an admiring glint in his eyes. He proffers another shrimp to my lips, then another, then hands me a butter-soaked slice of french bread which leaves more crumbs on my belly for him to brush off.

Finally, I say, "OK boys, I'm ready to move to the chair" and each of them grabs an arm to help wrest my weight from the bed. Although the chair is only a few feet from the bed, it seems to take forever to reach it, with my underbelly now big enough that it bounces off my thighs with each heavy step I take.

When I finally sit, my too-ponderous belly assumes its all to familiar position ... falling between my legs where it juts out almost to my knees. "Alright my friend," Marcel says, chuckling a bit, "I just need you to bring your legs together."

I just give him a pained expression, then laugh a bit myself, and say *I don't think I could possibly move this out of the way," patting the hundreds of pounds of fat that rest between my legs.

"Do... do you need some help with it?," Serge asks with a look of sheer lust in his eyes. "Yes," Marcel says, "let's help our fat friend bring his legs together," and he and Serge reach down, placing their hands strategically beneath my underbelly. "On three," Serge commands, "one ... two ... three ... lift!"

Once my rolls are hefted above thigh level, Serge barks at me, "move those legs together Fatty!" As I do, they let go of their heavy load which drops down with a noticeable thud a top my thighs, creating not just ripples but all out quakes in my loose flesh, and sending my two feeders into convulsions of laughter. "That's the biggest flabalanche I've ever seen!" Marcel crows, and Serge agrees, noting "and we've had some awfully fat clients before, but Piggy here takes the cake!" "And eats it too," I add, laughing at myself.

Finally I say, "enough laughs for one day ... roll that f**king food cart over here, this Pig is hongry!" "I like this client," Marcel beams, and Serge says "me too!" and adds "such an appetite ... he's gonna pack on SO many pounds for us!"

As Serge retrieves the cart, I ask "so how much does my wife want me to gain while I'm here with you boys?"

"Funny you should ask Fat Man," Marcel replies, "because she doesn't know how much you weigh now." "Oh yeah," I reckon, "our 400 pound scale crapped out about three months ago." "She told us," Serge says, "so all she could do was estimate your weight from there." "Yes," Marcel chimed in, "she estimated you had been gaining 10 to 15 pounds a month, but THEN," pausing for emphasis, "she said you REALLY packed on the pounds after you were fired." Serge picks up again, quite excitedly, "and she thought maybe you had added 40 or 50 pounds in just the last month, since you didn't have to go to work anymore and could devote yourself totally to eating all the food she made."

I pat my belly and confess, "I did eat an awful lot last month, but I doubt I gained 40 pounds, much less 50 ... I'd have to be a REAL glutton to do that!" My feeders look incredulously at me, then Serge says "have you seen yourself eat?" "You're a human eating machine," Marcel adds.

"Well," I say, "maybe I am after all, so let's have at this movable feast of yours boys, Papa is hungry!"

09-17-2015, 01:56 PM

I've polished off most of the shrimp, am halfway through the pot roast and mashed potatoes, and have fit in a few big bites of lasagna, when I decide I really need to take a break. I'm kind of in the mood for conversation so I ask my feeders, "so how much does Nora (my wife) think I weigh?" Marcel, who is readying another big plateful for me, responds "her best guess is 475 pounds." "Wow," I say, "and how much do you guys think I weigh?" "I think a little more than that, just seeing how immense your belly is," Serge says, "so maybe 495 ..." "Nonsense," huffs Marcel, "he has to be over 500 pounds, just look at all that blubber!" "So what's your number?," I ask Marcel and he responds haughtily, "five hundred and eleven pounds!" "Geez guys," I mutter, "do I really look that fat?" "Yes you do," Marcel responds, "your belly is just two big hanging slabs of man blubber, topped by two big fat cow udders," then he flopped my udders for emphasis. "You REALLY don't realize how enormous you are, do you?"

"Gee, thanks guys," I say, "when I was in business I always wanted to be the biggest and best at what I did, and I guess it has carried over now that my career appears to be eating!" "You're a pro at it, that's for sure," Serge laughed, "but remember you're just getting started ... you're going to be a MUCH MUCH fatter man before we're finished. "The greatest eater ever?," I ask excitedly. "Well, we don't want you to get so fat you can't walk anymore, but you'll be up there in the top one percent for sure," Marcel exclaimed.

As Serge lifts a big slab of lasagna to my mouth and I finish chewing, I ask another question ... "so how much does Nora want me to weigh when I get out of here?" "Good question," Serge says, "why don't you answer our fat friend Marcel?" "Of course," Marcel starts, "Nora initially thought that we could aim for two pounds a day in gain, so six weeks is 42 days, times two equals an 84-pound gain. And since she thought you were maybe 475, that would put you at almost 560 pounds." "But tell him what we told her," Serge interrupts. "Well, we told her that our experience with other clients is typically a gain of three to four pounds a day ... so assuming my estimate is 511 is correct, three pounds a day would put you at ... let's see ..." "627 pounds," I say, having done the math in my head. "Or," Serge continues, if you gain four pounds a day that would put you at ..." "678 pounds," I answer, a bit incredulously. Then I ask, "have any of your clients ever averaged more than four pounds a day?" "One," Marcel said excitedly, "but she was a REALLY big eater ... but come to think about it, early on she was packing away about the same amount of food you are today." "How much did SHE gain?," I asked, not sure if I wanted to know the answer. "Oh, a little less than five pounds a day," Serge said with admiration, "if I recall, she gained 204 pounds in 42 days ... of course, she was only 5'3" and already at 400 pounds, so she was almost completely spherical in shape by the time she left ... her husband was so pleased with us he paid us a $500 per pound gain bonus, on top of our usual $1,000 per pound fee!"

"Just think my friend," Marcel continued, "if you could match her performance, you'd be over 700 pounds!" "Oh boy," Serge squealed, "you might not fit through the door on the way out and might have to stay with us and get even fatter!"

fat hiker
09-24-2015, 02:33 PM
Wow, this is a new twist on an old idea - I am liking it! Great descriptions.

09-26-2015, 09:51 AM
Proof of Weight

As I finally polish off the last scraps of food left on the cart, I lean back in the soft chair feeling utterly and completely stuffed ... and strangely contented. I have never eaten so much in my life and mine has been a life devoted to eating, particularly so over the last year. So much so that I have lost a career that I devoted years to and loved. But on the bright side, it gives me so much more time to eat, which seems to please my wife immensely and, I have to admit, pleases me too as my belly grows more and more immense.

"That was TOTALLY impressive, my fat friend," Serge says in seeming awe of my appetite. "I can only imagine how many more pounds you've just packed on," Marcel says, also in total awe of my gluttony.

That piques my curiousity and I ask, "is it safe to assume that in your line of work you have a scale sturdy enough to weigh a Fatty like me?" "Do we have a scale big enough for a Fatty like you?," Marcel asks facetiously, "of course we do ... how do you expect us to get paid if we don't!"

"In fact," Serge says, "we should have weighed you right after you woke up the first time, but we so enthralled with that magnificent belly of yours that we completely forgot!"

"Magnificent?," I ask, "my belly has never been called that before. In fact, my old boss, the CEO of my company, called it 'disgusting' the day he fired me."

"Believe us," Marcel responds, "we see a LOT of bellies in our work, but YOURS is the most magnificent we've seen." "And it's going to get even more magnificent as we stuff you fuller and fuller over the next 41 days," Serge says in a leering tone of voice.

"Thanks guys, that means a lot to me," I say, "after all, I was a bit self-conscious and dejected after I got fired, but being here with you guys and knowing that Nora loves me being this fat gives me so much more confidence. So much so, that I might just aim for 700 pounds by the time I get out of here!"

"That's the spirit Fat Man!," Serge squeals with delight, "and we're just the men to get you there." "Even if we have to knock out the door frame to waddle you out in 41 days," Marcel laughs and tweaks one of my massive moobs.

"OK boys, help me get up and let's go weigh me," I say excitedly. "Tell you what," Marcel says, "try to get up on your own." "OK," I say and put a hand on each arm of the chair and try to heave myself out. I manage to lift my butt maybe two inches off the seat cushion before falling back again. "Try it again," Marcel urges, and this time I get my butt about a quarter of the way out of the seat before my legs give out and I fall back again. "OK," Serge chuckles, "we'll help you this time ... try again
Fat Man!" This time as I get my butt off the seat, they each grab me under my arms and help me get fully to my feet.

"Thanks guys," I say, before adding, "I wonder what it will be like when I'm carrying another hundred or two hundred pounds ..."

"Don't worry," Marcel says in a kind tone of voice, "it's not all about eating here, part of our regimen is special exercises to help strengthen your legs and arms, to make sure that you can lug around all your weight for years to come." "Yes," Serge adds, "Nora specifically instructed us that she still wants to be able to chase you around the house!"

"She is definitely a chubby chaser," I say with pride. "More of a SUPER chub chaser," Serge snickers, and I shake my head in grudging agreement.

It's then that I see the scale for the first time, parked over in a darkened corner of the sparsely furnished room. "So what's its capacity?," I ask. "You sure it will handle me?, I've gotten SO fat," I add, fishing for a response from my feeders as to the current state of my obesity. Marcel obliges me, and says "yes you have, you must be over a quarter ton, just look at how far that belly hangs down now, it's only a few inches above your knees, you're just enormous!"

"You say the nicest things," I respond proudly, and Serge asks, "tell us how much YOU think you weigh."

"Wow," I say, I just don't know. "Let's see, one of you said 495 and the other said 511 ... I'd really like to be over 500 pounds ... that really has been a dream I've had since childhood." "Guess" pleads Serge, "tell us what you think." "OK boys, I'm gonna think big, I mean massive ... I think I'll weigh in at 514 pounds."

"My Lord," says Serge, "even bigger than either of us estimated!"

We finally arrive at the scale, after my slow steady slog across the room. Marcel cuts on an overhead light from a wall switch and reveals a true beast of a scale, one that looks like it could weigh livestock! "It's got a half ton capacity," Serge says, as if reading my mind, "more than enough EVEN for you Fat Boy!"

I prepare to step on, but Marcel stops me and says, "first we have to get your height, step over here." They arrange me with my back against the wall where a measuring tape has been hung ... 68 inches ... 5'8". My mind wanders to a year or so ago when I was probably 200 pounds lighter and Nora teased me "300 pounds is too much weight for a man of only five foot eight!" And now look at me ...

"Now let's measure your waist Fat Man," Serge says with obvious glee. They have me step away from the wall and Marcel starts wrapping it around me, handing the end to Serge to pull it the rest of the way around until their hands met at my belly button, located in the crease between my top and bottom rolls. After a noticeable gasp from Marcel, Serge says, "congratulations Fatty, you have a 74 inch waistline ... that means you're half a foot bigger around than you are tall!"

That really sends my head spinning as I think back to my teenage years and an old maid great aunt of mine describing a country cousin as being so fat that he "was bigger around than he was tall." I marveled about that at the time, wondering just how fat you'd have to be for that to happen ... and now I know because it is me! If she were alive now, I wonder what the aunt would say about me in my current state of obesity ...

I snap out of it when Serge suggests to Marcel that they move the tape down a few inches (OK more like a foot now) to measure me at my widest point, the middle of my huge sagging bottom roll.

My belly fat can't help but jiggle as they slide the tape now lower, then I hear another audible gasp from both of them, as Marcel announces "your bottom roll is amazing ... 82 inches!" "Wow," I think, a whole eight inches more than my waist! No wonder they said that my belly was "marvelous," it really is!

Serge is so excited he grabs two big handfuls of my bottom roll and wobbles it up and down several times, sending my top roll and my moobs vibrating wildly. "Knock it off," Marcel commands, "we need to get our friend on the scale now, so we can provide 'proof of weight' to Nora ... she was probably expecting it hours ago."

"You don't let me have any fun," Serge whines like a selfish child, and Marcel and I both laugh at that. I put my hand on Serge's shoulder and sqeeze it for encouragement before I say "I know you love all my fat, but I'd really like to get on the scale now ..."

Fortunately there is a digital read out mounted on the wall, otherwise I'd never be able to see my weight. As I climb on the digital numbers careen wildly, kind of like that stupid scale on The Biggest Loser ... 524, 491, 512, 499 ... then finally the scale decides on my actual weight ...

fat hiker
09-28-2015, 05:24 AM
Talk about leaving us hanging....

Great new chapter!

10-10-2015, 09:45 AM
Five Hundred and How Many?

When the digital readout finally settles on a number, I am surprised to find that my weight exceeds all of our expectations -- it's a whopping 518.3 pounds!

Serge lets out a high-pitched shriek, and utters "you REALLY have been an eating machine!" Marcel pats me on the back fondly and says "Nora is going to be so proud of her 'Fatty Pig' ... she told us that is what a young Russian woman called you when you were on vacation in Florida." "Wow," I said, "that was about 190 pounds ago ... I wonder what she'd call me now ... probably 'Fatty Hog' or something like that!"

"I'm sure she would be equally proud of you and how enormous you've become," Marcel added fondly.

As I climb off the scale, which appears big enough to weigh livestock, Serge scolds me to climb back on -- "don't you remember we need to provide proof of weight to Nora?"

This time the scale registers 518.6 and Marcel laughs "more of those calories must have turned into fat!" Then he says, "let's get a shot of the three of us together to send to Nora." "Great idea," Serge squeals, "he'll look even fatter to her standing next to the two of us!"

Marcel sets the timer on the camera and we all three pose together, two muscular young hunks and one middle-aged blimp. Once the shot is snapped, Serge retrieves the iPad to show me the image and I'm absolutely shocked at what I see!

I obviously know I'm fat, but I actually feel skinnier than I am, so I am surprised to see a guy staring back at me who looks like some of those amazing behemoths I've been seeing on Tumblr, Fantasy Feeder, etc., for years! If I didn't know my exact weight, I'd swear the guy in the picture weighed 600 pounds, maybe even 650, with an apron sagging halfway down his knees and moobs so big they wrap all the way around his back forming back moobs of their own, plus huge flabby upper arms that appear as big around as Serge's and Marcel's waists!

In contrast to me, Serge and Marcel have six-pack abs and rippling biceps and thigh muscles, making me look like a pathetic mountain of jiggling flesh. And then it occurs to me that I may be another hundred, 150, or even 200 pounds heavier by the time I return to Nora ... I know she thinks she'll like it, but will she really like it once the reality of a 650 or 700 pound husband sinks in?

Soon a panic attack sets in and I start hyperventilating ... the boys grab me by my flabby arms and escort me to the easy chair, telling me to relax and breath slowly. Soon I begin to catch my breath and everything returns more or less to normal.

"You gave us a scare there Fat Man," Marcel says, but Serge gives me a good once over and says, definitely, "clearly our Pig here needs more food ... it's your turn to go prepare things" and Marcel scampers off.

Serge walks over to a fancy chest of drawers, opens one, and pulls out what he describes as some of "our emergency stash," several giant-sized candy bars. He unwraps a Mr. Goodbar (my favorite, how did he know?) and brings it to my mouth, saying "eat up my very fat friend ... I just know you're going to become our fattest client ever ..."

"You think so?," I mumble between chews. "I KNOW so Fatty," he responds and starts kneading my rolls of fat with one hand while feeding me more of the candy bar with the other. "700 pounds won't even be a challenge for a professional eater like you!"

10-16-2015, 08:15 AM
Unexpected Visitor

Today marks the midway point of my sojourn with Marcel and Serge, three weeks in and a tremendous amount of weight gained.

At the one week point, I had weighed in at 540 pounds, up 22 pounds in seven days, so a shade over three pounds a day. I was impressed but Serge was quite disappointed in me, scolding that an eater as accomplished as me should be packing on at least four pounds a day!

The week two weigh-in was a bit better, bringing me to a staggering 565 pounds, meaning I was packing on over three and a half pounds a day. That put Serge in a better mood, but he kept pushing me to eat more, to push through the pain and finally break the four pound a day barrier (which Marcel educated me is to eaters what the four minute mile is to runners!).

I actually can't wait (weight?) for my weigh-in today, to see if I have finally broken the elusive barrier that apparently so few fat men and women have ever done.

As I muse how much I may weigh now, after three weeks of intense gluttony, my thoughts wander to my lovely wife Nora. While Marcel and Serge have been exceptional feeders, occasionally taking care of other needs too, I miss my wife who helped set me on my current course to hyper-obesity. I miss how she used to chide me about my weight gain, then actively helped facilitate it by baking me pies and cakes and cookies every night, all the time telling me that she was going to put me on a diet, then finally abandoning all pretext of me ever going on a diet, admitting that she wanted me to be "enormously and gloriously fat."

I haven't heard from her in these three weeks, but before I arrived, she had been preparing to fly to Asia for an extended period on business for her company. She had been worried about leaving me alone at home, so she obviously cooked up the idea of sedating me and having me wake up in the company of Marcel and Serge who would ensure that I didn't starve while she was away! If only she could see me now, with my belly hanging between my legs while I sit, dangling down precariously toward the floor ... I hoped she would be proud of her big fat butterball of a hubby.

And I have to admit, I've really enjoyed my time away from her. Marcel and Serge have been excellent hosts and since the first couple of days I've had the complete run of the place. On day three, I finally ventured out of the room where my feedings had begun and discovered that there was a whole big urban townhouse, complete with an elevator to whisk me to a small pool on the roof or down to a well-appointed gym in the basement.

On sunny days, the boys would get me up to the rooftop pool, trying to get some tan on my pale white body. I felt a little bit like I was in those images of "Antonio," the 600-pound plus fat man that always seem to pop up on the internet, for I would sit on the edge of the pool, my feet dangling into the water, while Serge would fuss over me.

First he would have me on my back so he could apply sunscreen to my belly and moobs, making sure he covered every last centimeter of flesh! Then, since my too-small underwear was barely concealing anything, he would help me slide them down, so I could "get an all-over tan," as he put it.

Then he would have me lay so that my belly flopped over to one side so that he could apply sunscreen to the areas normally hidden by my vast paunch. Inevitably, he would chuckle when applying the sunscreen to the area between my legs, chiding me about how my manhood was completely buried under all that flesh and asking for it to "come out and play."

That was always Marcel's cue to fetch a donut ... or six ... from a waiting tray and start feeding them to me. And inevitably, the combination of food and Serge's incessant banter would cause my little turtle to poke its head out of its fat-encrusted shell. That always brought joy to Serge and occasionally I'd even see the more reserved Marcel cracking a smile. But usually no touchie ... that was the rule that Nora had laid down for them and Marcel did his best to ensure that the rule was kept.

And after a number of days in the sun, I can look at myself quite admiringly in the mirror. I have quite the tan and although I can't see large parts of my body, I am told by the boys that it is, in fact, an all-over tan. It takes me back to a trip to a Florida resort that Nora and I took several months ago, when she got totally turned on by how brown my norally pale skin got in the sun. We must have had sex three times a day during those two weeks, her referring to me as her "big brown blimp!"

On the cloudy days during my stay, the boys have done their best to get me to the basement gym. They haven't expected miracles, but just want me to work on my leg strength, so that I can carry around 700 pounds when the time comes. The first time, I couldn't believe how pitifully out-of-shape I was, barely able to go 30 seconds on the stair step machine or more than a couple of minutes on the exercise bike. But three weeks in, I'm finding my legs much strengthened and I actually enjoy riding the stationary bike (because Marcel has set a table next to it that is always stocked with donuts, so while I ride along I can eat as well!). With each hour spent in the gym, I'm betting I will be able to carry the vast amount of weight the boys and Nora have planned for me.

Speaking of that, it's 8 a.m. and the boys have yet to wheel in my food cart full of breakfast goodies. Where can they be? I'm starving!

I decide to get up and investigate the situation. By now, my too-small underwear simply won't fit anymore, so I walk around naked all day. Somehow I manage to hoist what now must be over 600 pounds out of bed and into a standing position. Then I begin my slow waddle toward the door, my apron bouncing off my thighs with each heavy step (I wish I could get a video of that, it would be so erotic to watch!).

As I approach the door, I hear voices from the other side, which I naturally assume is Marcel talking to Serge. I sling open the door and step through, my belly grazing the door frame on both sides, and stop dead in my tracks ... it's Nora, looking totally fabulous in a silky kimono she must have acquired on her Asian trip.

The look on her face upon spying me is priceless ... her jaw noticeably drops and her eyes bug out wide. "Oh my God," she shrieks, "the boys told me you had gotten SO much fatter, but that still didn't prepare me for THIS!"

"You like?," I say sheepishly.

"I love it!," she responds boisterously and wraps her arms around as much of me as she can, while I pull her in for a long wet kiss.

10-18-2015, 01:09 PM
Exceeding All Expectations

"I missed you babe," I whisper in Nora's ear. "I missed you more Big Man," she whispers back and hugs me even tighter, grabbing my back moobs for greater leverage.

"How was Asia?," I ask and she answers, "the usual, met with a vendor, cut a great deal, back to the hotel for some sleep, do the same thing the next day." Then she adds, "I missed you so much ... and this belly (grasping my apron with both hands) ... and feeding this belly ... and playing with this belly ... and with most of all what's hiding under this belly!"

I blush and stammer "and I miss you playing with all of those things ..."

"I know you do baby," she consoles me, "and I'm sorry I had to be gone for so long ... but it looks like Marcel and Serge have taken good care of you," then she gets a shit-eating grin on her face and adds, "it looks like you haven't missed any meals!"

"Six a day," Serge snickers and Marcel and Nora both give him the evil eye.

"Are you hungry baby?," Nora asks, "or can we spend some alone time together first?"

Despite not seeing my wife in three weeks, I am momentarily conflicted in answering her. Fortunately, Marcel suggests, "perhaps he can have a light snack first ... then we can leave you two lovebirds alone ..."

"Good idea," Nora says, and patting me on the belly, adds "you probably need a little carbo loading before your cardio workout, don't you?" I enthusiastically shake my head yes and Serge scurries off to bring back my "snack."

Nora drapes an arm around my love handles and uses her free hand to latch onto my apron and admiringly wobble it up and down a few times. "YOU have just gotten SO much fatter," she says with great enthusiasm, then turns to ask Marcel, "just how weight has he added?"

In his French accent, Marcel explains, "he has been such a good eater, maybe our best ever, but we feel he has so much more potential ..."

"That's great," Nora snarles, "but I asked how much!"

Marcel sighs and says, "very well then, your husband gained 47 pounds in two weeks, but he's been working extra hard this last week and we're certain he has picked up his pace ..."

"Wait," Nora interrupts him, "you mean he hasn't had his week three weigh-in yet?"

"No," Marcel stutters, "we weren't expecting you to show up so early today." Nora gets a sly grin on her face, and says "then by all means, let's get this big mountain of jelly on the scale," and grabs me by the hand and starts leading me toward it.

On the way, she begins laughing at the fwapping sound my apron makes as it slaps against my thighs with each step I take toward the scale. "That's some incredible apron," she gasps, then turns toward Marcel again and asks, "so what did that 47-pound gain do to his total weight?" Not waiting for Marcel to answer, I proudly blurt out "565 pounds baby!"

"I'm so proud of my fat baby," she exclaims, then asks me "but what do you think it will be this week?" I pause to reflect before answering, again with pride, "I think I probably broke the four pound a day barrier, so probably at least 28 more ... and that would be ..." "5-8-9," Nora shouts, "my God you really are hyper-obese, aren't you Fatty?"

I wrap a heavy arm around her shoulders and pull her into me for a bear hug, gushing "I love it when you call me Fatty!" "She laughs and says "I know you do Fatty and I love calling you that, but right now it's time to get you on that scale so we can see just how big a Fatty you are, Fatty!"

"Yes maam," I say and bound the last few steps to the scale. As I step on the extra wide base, Marcel slides the bottom weight past the 400 mark, then 450, and 500, and finally lets it rest in the 550 slot. Then he starts sliding the bottom weight, starting at the 35 pound mark, then to 40, pausing to say "well, that's a positive sign, it means you broke the 4-pound a day barrier, congratulations!" "Keep going," Nora barks, and Marcel slides it another pound, then another, and another and the scale still doesn't come into balance. Impatient, Nora slides it all the way to the end of the line, the 49 pound mark and it still doesn't come into balance!

Nora looks at me and I look at Marcel and ask, "could this mean?" "I think it does my Piggy friend," Marcel says with excitement in his voice, and slides the top bar back to zero and moves the bottom bar into the 600 slot, and still the damned scale doesn't come into balance!

With a look of amazement in his eyes, Marcel flicks the top bar over to the one pound mark, then two, then finally to three pounds and the scale starts teetering into balance.

Nora gets a huge grin on her face, then walks around to give Marcel a big hug and a heartfelt "THANK YOU," content in the knowledge that her husband had not only broken the 4-pound a day mark, but had joined the much more elusive 5-pound a day club!

Just then I hear Serge come through the door, asking what's going on. Seeing me on the scale, he began to get excited, then positively danced up and down when Nora shouted to him "SIX HUNDRED AND THREE!"

10-23-2015, 01:28 PM
A Dozen Eclairs

The weights clank loudly as I step off the scale and Nora comes rushing to my arms, kissing me wildly and fondling my rolls of blubber like a woman possessed. Possessed of the knowledge that her once sorta maybe skinny hubbie now weighs an incredible 603 pounds!

Tearing herself from my lips for a moment, she looks over at Marcel and says, "would you believe that he weighed only 165 pounds when we met? Just a hint of a belly and moobs and a delicious pair of love handles ... but now look at him! He has to be the fattest man in town now ... and he still has three weeks to go!"

Marcel stands besides us and pats me on the back, then moves behind me to give my monster neck roll a gentle squeeze before moving his hands down a bit to start massaging the huge deposits of fat that have formed around my shoulder blades. As Nora returns to smothering me in kisses, Marcel says "Big Man, we told you you could do it, gain four pounds a day, you just had to put your mind ... and your belly ... to it. And you did it, making it to five pounds a day this week."

Nora tears herself away from my lips again and exclaims, "I thought these boys were crazy when they said you had the potential to hit 700 pounds, but now I know it's true ... five pounds a day for 21 more days ... you'll be at 708 pounds ... you'll be one glorious beatiful mountain of fat! And better yet, I'll have you all to myself Fatty!"

"Are you sure you want me that fat," I ask shyly. "Are you kidding Tubby?," she responds, "you're gonna be the sexiest tub o' lard who ever walked the face of the earth!" "OK then," I respond, "guess I got a lot of eating to do!"

"Speaking of that," Marcel interrupts, "Serge has brought that light snack we discussed." "Hope he brought more than a light snack," I exclaim, "this fat man is hongry!"

What did he bring me?," I ask, "I'm f**king starving." "Don't worry my fatty pig," I hear Serge bark from the corner, "I know what that insatiable belly of yours craves and I've brought you a dozen of your favorite eclairs, the giant ones from the bakery down the street. "Oh goody," I exclaim, then ask Nora, "will you feed me baby, then ... you know?"

She grins and responds, "I'll do you one better Blubber Boy, I'll do both things at once!" Then, with both hands, she pushes me backwards toward the waiting bed and commands "get moving Tubby!" She runs ahead of me, pausing beside the bed waiting for me to catch up, the pace of my steps slowed by my belly bouncing off my thighs. Again she laughs hysterically at my predicament and teases me, "come on Fatty, you can make it, just a few more steps!"

As Serge and Marcel look on proudly at their 603 pound accomplishment slowly moving toward the bed, Nora pauses her merriment and asks them to stick around for a minute, saying "boys, I think I'm gonna need four strong hands to help hold that belly back until I ... uhm ... situate myself ... can you help?"

"Thought you'd never ask," lears Serge, while the more polite Marcel says, "of course we can Mademoiselle."

10-25-2015, 01:55 PM
That's A Lot of Blubber!

Serge presents the silver tray to me as I plop myself heavily onto the bed and I greedily snatch one of big fat eclairs, which seem double the size of your normal eclair. I pause momentarily to waft in the sweet aroma of the chocolate frosting and my taste buds eagerly await coming into contact with this perfect heaven-sent concoction of frosting, custard, and pastry -- I swear the taste experience is almost as good as sex!

It seems like an eternity, but my brief pause for reflection probably takes only a second or two and then I take the first bite and my senses explode ... first, the taste of chocolate, then pastry, then the incredible squirt of custard shooting into my mouth. The experience is made all the more exciting by the thought of how many calories are in that eclair -- I remember looking up the calories in a big KrispyKreme eclair once and it was like 450, but these eclairs must be twice the size of those and so much richer, I imagine it could be as much as 900 or maybe even a thousand calories! And, at that rate, if I eat all twelve (which is a foregone conclusion) I'll probably add two or three pounds this morning alone!

As I chew, Marcel arranges six pillows behind me so I can sit up a little in bed. Nora stands at the foot of the bed and does a little strip tease for me, not seeming to mind in the least that Serge and Marcel are there (perhaps because they are fussing over me rather than paying attention to the sexy naked lady).

Of course, having not seen her in three weeks, my eyes are riveted on my wife whose breasts seem perkier than I remember and whose pubic hair has been cleanly shaven. Although fixated on Nora, I'm also extremely hungry, and motion Serge to hand me a second eclair. As I resume chewing, Nora tempts me further with her feminine wiles, pinching her erect nipples with one hand, while pinching her clit with the other, all the while moaning loudly in anticipation of having me enter her.

"Did you miss me Fatty?," she moans. Unable to speak with my mouth full of eclair, I instead shake my head enthusiastically. "Figures" she sighs, but with a big grin on her face, "you're more interested in eating than f**king!" Still chewing, I raise my eyebrows in a pleading fashion and motion with my hands for her to come in for a landing ... on my cock.

"Very well," she says with another exaggerated sigh, and tells Marcel and Serge "do me a favor boys and peal back some of that blubber to see if he's ready." Serge excitedly sets down the silver tray, but not before I grab a third eclair, and positions himself on my right side, while Marcel aligns himself on my left. Nora impatiently tells them, "peel it back ... NOW!" As they do, Serge seems disappointed that he can't see what is between my legs because his view is obscured by all the fat he is holding in his hands. But Nora's view is not obscured in the least and she gasps, "he's ready boys and Mama's coming in."

She squats on the bed in the vicinity of my ankles and slowly shimmies her way to my knees, then to my pubic region. She uses her hands and my belly to steady herself, grabbing two big handfuls of fat, and finally starts slowly ratcheting herself down atop my rigid member, driving me wild with each slow purposeful movement she makes. Now I'm the one moaning with desire ... so much desire that I deposit the remains of my third eclair down beside me on the sheet and reach over my belly with both hands to start toying with Nora's itty bitty breasts.

"Do you like that Fat Boy?"

"I love it baby ... it feels so great to be with you again ..."

"I thought you would ... I did some special exercises when I was in Asia ... so I could add to your .... pleasure ..."

"That you are," I moan, then moan louder "work it baby, work it!"

Already breathless, Nora motions to my two muscular handlers to release their holds on my apron, and as they do it slaps heavily onto her thighs and drives me even deeper into her. Nora shrieks, "oh my God, Fat Man, that's a lot of blubber!"

She then orders Serge to set the tray of eclairs down beside her on the bed. But before the boys can leave us alone, Nora discovers that the shear force of my 603 pounds pressing against her requires the use of both of her hands to keep my belly in check. And, of course, no free hands means Nora is unable to feed me!

As I laugh heartily at my big fat predicament and hers, my belly convulses in her hands, and she barks at Marcel and Serge to stick around and help! As the stronger of the two, Marcel peels back my apron again while Serge picks up my half-eaten third eclair and brings it to my lips. And Nora starts riding me again, with a renewed vengeance.

"You should see yourself Fatty," she taunts, "so much blubber I can barely f**k you properly ... and it's just gyrating in every direction ... like giant waves of jello ... and you know what's best of all, Tubby?"

"No ... what?," I moan loudly.

She answers, breathlessly again, "and you're getting even fatter with every bite of that eclair ... you're gonna be 700 pounds easy Big Boy!"

"I hope so," I moan back, "make me as fat as you want me to be!"

She laughs and responds, "I'm not the one making you fat ... this is all on YOU Big Boy and that unquenchable appetite of yours!"

"I guess you're right," I meekly concede, and Serge stuffs another big bite of eclair into my mouth. But perhaps sensing my disappointment at her reaction, Nora consoles me by saying "but I love the results of your endless gluttony Fat Man and can't wait to get you back home so we can do this EVERY day!"

That ... plus another big bite of eclair ... makes it all better and we get back into our rhythm, Nora's hands grasping big handfuls of fat to help drive my cock deeper into her dripping wet orifice. Soon I'm totally exhausted, even though she is doing all the work, and sense that I will need a little bit of encouragement to finish off the engagement.

Gasping for breath, I ask her, "babe ... (gasp) ... how much (weeze) ... do ... you ... (gasp) want me to weigh?" "Hummm ...," she mutters. I follow up "I mean ... (weeze) ... is 700 gonna be enough?" Serge reaches the eclair over for another bite and I wave him off with a brush of the hand. "Well?," I ask again, "tell me!"

"I dunno," Nora pleads, but I insist, "tell me!"

That's all it took and she made a summation that would make a trial attorney proud ... and all while still riding me like a rodeo girl.

"OK Tubs, here it is -- I'm not sure 700 pounds is enough ... and maybe not even 800!"

I could feel myself beginning to cum, but she really sent me into overdrive when she said, "but I'm not sure I can do it myself ... I may have to hire these boys to come home with us. As I arch my eyebrows at the thought of that, Nora smiles (I can barely see her do it above the doming of my belly!) and says "you'd like that wouldn't you Fatty? Marcel and Serge feeding you and pampering you ALL DAY LONG while I'm at work, getting you fatter and fatter ... buried in blubber, so fat, so helpless ... SO HOT!"

I enhale deeply and glance over at Serge who wants to stuff more eclair in my mouth. As I do, he silently mouths to me "eat up Fatty Pig" and pinches my right nipple. That's all it takes and I exhale deeply and look on with extreme satisfaction as my wife arches her back and climaxes with a very sexy little whimper as I let loose with energy that had been pent up within me the last three weeks!

fat hiker
10-26-2015, 09:50 AM
Wow, what a climax!

Except that there's more to come, right?

Thanks for creating such a memorable story.

10-29-2015, 07:53 AM
Bury Me In Your Blubber!

Marcel and Serge leave us alone, so they can go off and prepare me my traditional huge breakfast.

While Nora is totally spent, I surprisingly still have some energy. On second thought it's probably not all that surprising because all I had to do was lay there! For at 603 pounds there wasn't much that I could have done anyway -- it was up to Nora to do all the work, but strangely she didn't seem to mind. After three weeks away from one another we both longed for each other's touch and that made the sex all the better, even though I wasn't of that much help!

As the boys leave the room, Nora lays herself down over the big hump of my belly for a few minutes, nestling her head between my now-oversized woman-like moobs. She finally summons the energy to dismount and lies down beside me, her head resting on my shoulder cradled between a pillowy moob and an equally pillowy slab of upper arm fat (I imagine it is quite comfortable for her!). One of her hands rests on my belly, thumb inserted in my belly button, gently rocking my hundreds of pounds of belly fat rythmically back and forth.

After a few minutes of her blissfully rocking my belly fat back and forth, Nora finally has the energy to speak, whispering in my ear, "I can't believe how much fatter you've gotten in only three weeks." "I know," I whisper back, "I've surprised even myself ... I guess I really am an eating machine, huh?" She giggles and responds, "there was NEVER any doubt about that, even when you were a 165 pound lightweight, but you have just sent that machine into overdrive the last year or so ... but even I wouldn't have thought you could gain 85 pounds ... or whatever it was ... in just three weeks!"

It's my turn to giggle, and I respond, "I guess Marcel and Serge have just been good feeders ..." but Nora interrupts me and says "but they couldn't have done it without you my sexy gluttonous pig! Just look at you Fatty, your gluttony obviously has no limits ..."

"Speaking of that baby ..." I respond, "I'm still really hungry and by my count there must be at least a half dozen of those eclairs left ..."

Nora sighs and exclaims, "of course I'll feed the rest of them to you my Fatty Pig!"

"But first," she says, "you have to do something for me." "Anything babe," I respond eagerly, and she says, "I want to feel what 603 pounds will feel like on top of me." I plead, "but I'll crush you babe."

"Nonsense," she responds and orders me "bury me in your blubber, Fat Boy!" I plead again, "but shouldn't we wait for Marcel and Serge, in case I need help getting off you?" She smiles and says "I'll take my chances Fatty," then hops off the bed and walks around to my side to help pull me to my feet.

I remain flat on my back in the bed and she hands me an eclair for encouragement. It's all gone in less than thirty seconds but once gone I still remain on my back. Nora laughs at me and says, "don't tell me you're so fat you can't get out of bed ... come on Tubby, you can do it!"

I finally start to move, rolling to the side, then throwing my legs over the side. Feet now on the floor, more or less, I prop myself on one elbow and eventually get my torso upright, exhibiting for Nora the full extent of my fat rolls while in a seated position. I can hear her gulp when she sees my apron completely engulf my thighs and extend past my knees. Then she lets out an audible gasp when the weight of my belly proves too much and forces open my legs, sending all that blubber crashing down!

"That is SO sexy!," she exclaims, "I bet you couldn't close your legs now if you tried ... that belly is so f**king immense!"

I look at her a little sternly and say, "OK, you've had your fun, now help me stand up."

"Don't be so testy, Fat Man," she scolds and grabs a hold of my hands and steps back to help pull me upright. I make it up on the third try and Nora quickly takes my old spot on the bed, her lithe body almost completely sunken into the permanent crevasse my body has formed in the mattress over the last three weeks.

She laughs and tells me "you've definitely left your mark here, Fatty!" "Ha ha," I respond, and she motions me with her hand to come down on top of her. "Wait a minute," I plead and grab another eclair and quickly waft it down. She laughs at me again, saying "you really can't stop eating, can you?" I laugh and say "just need a little bit more energy, babe!"

Finally finally gets exasperated with me as I start to reach for another eclair and demands that I climb on top of her "NOW!"

I leave the eclair on the silver platter and start my slow, steady descent down on top of my skinny little wife (160 pounds isn't exactly skinny, but skinny compared to me!).

I plant my left knee on the mattress beside Nora's right hip, causing my belly to plop down and completely obscure large parts of her stomach, hips, and thighs. She giggles at the sensation and I ask her help, "can you help pick it up, so I can swing my other leg over?" More giggles and she struggles to lift my apron enough for me to straddle her properly. After a lot more giggles, she finally gains the proper leverage on my belly fat, lifting it enough that I have enough clearance to throw my right leg over so that I now straddle her a little below her hips.

Resting my weight on my knees and haunches, she still isn't feeling the full effect. Nonetheless, when she lets go of my apron, all of my belly fat comes crashing down up her chest, completely obscuring her stomach and breasts and with the tip of my apron now resting under her chin! That gives her great pleasure and amusement and the vast expanse of my belly fat amazes even me!

"I'm completely covered," she squeals with glee and uses her hands to try to part my belly fat enough that she can see my face. Even I'm laughing at seeing my bride engulfed in blubber!

After a few seconds, she asks if I can slide down closer to her knees. As I do so, I can first see her neck again, then a little bit of her breasts, then finally all of her breasts are visible again. But her stomach and all the way to her knees are now engulfed in my belly fat.

She is now having fun using her hands to play with my belly fat, but my belly is just so damned big that she is having trouble reaching my moobs, which is what I'd really like for her to play with!

She seems to want to play with them too and asks me to lean down a bit as she wants to "motorboat those big fat titties!" But as I lean forward and she leans her head and chest forward, there is still too much belly in the way for her to reach!

Frustrated, Nora finally tells me rest my weight on her. I ask "are you sure?" "Sure, I'm sure," she barks and orders me to lie down on top of her.

I'm still determined not to rest my full weight on top of her, so I uses my knees and elbows as much as I can to bear my weight and slowly lower myself onto her so that we are now face-to-face. I can tell that my weight is causing some discomfort, but she doesn't let on, telling me "that's so incredible Fat Boy" and using her hands to pull my head closer for an incredible kiss, then reaching them down to my sides to grab big handfuls of blubber.

I try to keep a mental clock in my head, not wanting to stay on top of her for more than a minute or two, afraid that she'd end up like Fatty Arbuckle's date back in the 1930's. But every time I attempt to move off her, she grabs my fat rolls tighter and moans something like, "put your weight into it," or "crush me under those rolls, Fatty," or "603 pounds isn't enough Tubby."

Finally after what seems to be three or four minutes, my elbows give out from bearing my weight, and I crash down a little more noticeably on Nora. That is finally too much and she finally encourages me to roll off her, only I can't! As I struggle and she squirms under 603 pounds of pressure, Nora gets a little frantic, finally screaming "get off me Fatty -- I can't breathe!"

With one big burst of strength, I finally elevate myself off of her with my elbows and knees and am able to roll off to her side. Of course, the force of my 603 pounds hitting the mattress has the equal and opposite reaction of causing Nora's 160 pound body to literally jump off the mattress as if it she was bouncing on a trampoline!

Briefly catching her breath, Nora breaks into a huge fit of laughter and squeals, "again, again ... bury me in your blubber AGAIN!"

"OK Danger Girl," I respond, "but only after you feed me the rest of those eclairs!"

fat hiker
10-29-2015, 02:19 PM
Another great addition to this burgeoning story!

11-03-2015, 12:33 PM
Serge, Serge, Serge

I now have a little over a week left with my voracious feeders, Marcel and Serge. Not quite two weeks ago now, Nora spent but a day with me, then had to rush off on another international business trip, clearing it out of the way so that she would have plenty of time with me when I return home.

It's morning time and I lay awake in bed, sunk deep in the mattress, pondering what it will be like to be alone with Nora again in our home, with her fiddling around with what by then will be over 700 pounds of blubber. Calling me rude names and egging me on to get even fatter ... I never imagined that I might be 700 pounds but I know that when I get home even that will soon be a distant memory ... and when will it all stop? ... when is enough enough? 750 pounds? 800? A thousand?

Then and there I make up my mind that anything over 850 is absurd ... I'll just have to put my foot down if she wants me any fatter than that! But my stomach grumbles and soon my thoughts are back to food, glorious food. Where are those boys with my breakfast?, I mutter to myself and wonder what is in store for me today.

Now I hear the food cart rolling down the hallway outside my door and I bound out of bed (as much so as an enormously fat man can) and waddle over to my plush eating chair, which is looking worse for the wear after almost five weeks of near constant use.

The door flies open and Serge wheels in the cart, seemingly even more stacked with food than usual. But his feeder partner is not with him and I ask "where's Marcel?" "He had to take care of some personal business," Serge responds, "so it's just you and me today Fatty Pig!"

Now I wasn't at all sure what to expect as Marcel always had a moderating influence on the Serge's baser instincts. Without his calming manner, there was no telling what Serge would do or try to do to me, but I was certain that it wouldn't take long for his intentions to become clear and for me to learn my fate.

"You must be REALLY hungry," he comments, "since you're already in the chair waiting for me." My response is a nervous laugh and he can no doubt tell that I'm wary of him.

"Tell you what Fat Boy," he leers, "let's do something different this morning and restrain your hands and feet so I can do all the feeding ... you can just sit back and enjoy the ride ... whatdayasay Fatty?" "Oh, we don't need to do that," I insist, but he doesn't take no for an answer and firmly presses my right arm deep into the arm rest and ties one end of a soft restraint around my thick wrist and the other end around a brass ring screwed into the floor board.

I start to squirm and try to get up out of the chair, but my weight keeps me planted firmly and Serge laughs at my predicament, telling me "don't fight it, you're just too fat and too helpless to resist!" "Helpless," I think ... that hurts!

Soon my other wrist is bound tight and Serge decides that he doesn't like it that my belly is sitting atop my thighs and grabs each of my legs and forceably spreads them apart forcing, causing my belly to fall precipitously in between. Serge giggles at the waves of fat that go flying and takes a couple of steps back to take in the vista.

"You should see yourself," he snickers. "Your belly is mountainous, but you know what Fatty?" "No, what?" I respond. "It's going to get even bigger ... you're going to be lucky if you can fit through the front door when you get home next week!"

I'm actually afraid he's right and sensing the fear in my face, Serge hustles over to the far wall of the room where a giant mirror hangs. It looks like it probably weighs a hundred pounds, but he easily wrests it in his strong arms and carries it over to in front of me. "Look at yourself Fatty!," he bellows and I do and even I am amazed at the sight ...

Seated, my belly now juts out and hangs down well past my knees, so much so that it's not inconceivable that it might one day kiss the floor when I'm seated like this. The sight makes me wonder what I must weigh now -- as of last week's weigh-in, I was up to 645 pounds, a six pound a day gain and assuming I had made at least the same progress this week that would put me close to 690, with a full week to go.

Serge sets the mirror down and lifts a huge buttery croissant to my mouth, saying "hope you're hungry Fatty." I feebly shake my head yes as I chew on the tasty confection and Serge continues, "it's a good thing Marcel isn't hear today ... he would never tell you this, but he thinks you've been holding out on us."

"Hhmmfff," I mutter between bites.

"He thinks ... I think too, that you could be eating and gaining a lot more. You were up to six pounds a day last week, but you have so much more capacity than that ... you are literally a human eating machine and we think you could pack on eight pounds a day easy." As he stuffs four slices of bacon in my mouth at once, he continues, "you have the chance to become a Masterpiece of Obesity and we want you to live up to your God-given potential!"

My eyes open wide at his utterance and my mouth opens even wider as he tilts my head backwards and pours from a giant cannister of gainer shake. I greedily gulp it down as he tells me, "and today I'm going to prove my point while Marcel is away." As he feeds me more bacon with one hand, the other grasps one of my huge cow-like udders and gives it a surprisingly relaxing massage, before asking me the critical question, "are you pig enough Fat Man, are you ready to reach your full gaining potential, are you ready to go home to Nora weighing 750 pounds?" I ponder his question for a split second, then shake my head in the affirmative.

Serge smiles a huge smile and says excitedly, "very well then, you're going to eat until you pop today my big blubbery friend!!

11-05-2015, 06:28 AM
OMG are you amazing!

11-08-2015, 09:24 PM
The Final Day

The last week with Marcel and Serge goes by in a blur of high caloric intake. On the morning of my final day, I am both a bit disappointed to be leaving my feeders and looking forward to going home with Nora, assuming of course that I can fit through all the doors! I don't yet know my final weight, but I am feeling utterly massive. If I'm not 750 pounds, I definitely feel it ... even with all the exercising that Marcel has forced me to do to strengthen my legs, I feel extremely sluggish in all my movements, like I'm in permanent slow motion.

I look at the time on my iPhone, since there likely isn't a watch band anywhere that would fit around my thick wrists. It's 7:30 a.m. and I'm totally starved. Usually the boys arrive with my breakfast food cart around 6:45 and I wonder what could be keeping them. Finally I decide to get out of bed and, unassisted, the effort takes me a full ten minutes, leading me to conclude that Nora was right on her last visit when she suggested that Marcel and Serge would need to come home with us to help take care of me.

Once finally on my feet, I waddle to the bathroom and sit on the extra-sized and extra-sturdy toilet (Marcel told me the manufacturer stress-tested it to a thousand pounds). Fortunately, it sits extra high too, higher than even a handicapped toilet, so it's not too hard to get to my feet again after I finish relieving myself. I just grab a hold of the sturdy mobility bar bolted into the wall and use it to help pull myself up. I glance at my iPhone again and it's now 8:05. Perturbed at my feeders, I waddle to my feeding chair, pausing momentarily to admire myself in a full-length mirror the boys hung for me early in my stay.

What stares back simply amazes me. When I arrived six weeks ago at somewhere around 515 pounds, my apron still hung a little high, obscuring perhaps only the top quarter of my thighs. I had a nice pad of fat wrapping around my shoulders and very respectable love handles, but my ass and thighs were comparatively firm for a quarter-tonner, since so much of my weight was in my two big belly rolls and moobs. But now, after six weeks of intensive feedings, I'm truly "mountainous," as Serge continuously reminds me. Fat is just dripping from every part of my body now -- my slabs of back fat around my shoulder blades have turned into full fledged back boobs that now rival my udder-like front boobs, my love handles resemble huge Goodyear inner tubes, my once-flat ass has turned into a bubble butt, and my once-strong thighs now are tree-trunk sized, each probably as big around as my waist when I weighed 250. But all of those pale in comparison to my belly, with my apron now hanging down to just above my knees. It simply amazes me what an extra 230 or 240 pounds has done to my body!

Just as I prepare to sit down and relieve the pressure on my legs, my feeders, Nora in tow, come storming through the door. But no food cart! Nora stops dead in her tracks when she sees just how much more I have grown over the last three weeks, her jaw dropping noticeably and her eyes nearly bugging out of her head. After an awkward pause, she looks at Marcel and Serge, and says, "I'm going to owe you boys a lot of money -- he MUST be AT LEAST 750 pounds!" "I'm thinking even more," Serge snickers, "you haven't seen him eat the last week or so." The normally composed Marcel lays a hand on each of my front moobs and comments, "yes, even I can't believe how much more obese our favorite Pig has grown over just the last few days!" Then he pats me affectionately on my belly and addresses me with a lustful look like I've never seen from him before, "you just couldn't contain your gluttony this week could you my beautiful Pig?" I couldn't contain my shit-eating grin as I shook my head no and just thinking about my experience the last few days gave me a raging hard-on.

My stomach lets forth a fierce rumble and Nora laughs and says, "don't worry, we're not gonna let our Piggy starve." "But first, I need to get some measurements to figure out how big a check to write to these boys." "To the scale?," I ask. "Not quite yet Fat Boy," she giggles, "we need to measure you for some new clothes, since clearly nothing you had before will fit now!" "Lift your arms, Fatty," Serge commands and I raise them up, causing Nora a big laugh at how much flab hangs from each upper arm. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a tape, laughing again as she says, "it's a ten-foot tape, hope it's enough!" She plants one end in my gaping belly button and tells Marcel to hold it in place. She then walks around me, seemingly taking at least a minute to make her way around, and wraps the tape around to join the end being held by Marcel. Snickers ensue from all three and I impatiently say "well?" "Well, Fatty," Nora responds, the tape is big enough at least ... you're ... you ... you are 102 inches at the waist!"

"Wow," I respond, then ponder the news for a second and ask, "now can you measure my bottom roll ... it's gotta be a lot bigger ..."

"Good idea, Tubs," she squeals and with Marcel's help adjusts the tape down over the widest point of my apron. I can tell my hypothesis is correct when she and Marcel both noticeably gasp. Finally Nora stammers, "a hundred ... a hundred ... a hundred and twelve inches ... you're f***king amazing Fatso!" "Did you ever think I could get this fat?," I ask with pride and Nora and Marcel both shake their heads no. Serge, on the other hand, shouts out "I did! I KNEW you could do it. I KNEW you were just an insatiable PIG!"

I laugh and concede, "I guess you were right Serge!" "Of course I was Fatty Pig, of course I was," he reminds me. "Now let's waddle you onto the scale Fatty," he encourages me. As I trudge over in slo-mo, all of them giggle at the waves quaking through my flesh as my belly apron dances off my thickened thighs. As I make my way, Nora solicits guesses on what the result will be -- "Fatso, how much do you think you'll weigh?" "751" I answer.

"Marcel?" "754," he answers.

"Serge?" "766" he answers with a snicker.

As I prepare to step on, I ask Nora for her prediction, and she responds, "I like Serge's prediction but think it might be a bit high, so I'll say 762." "Really?," I ask. "Really Fatty, you are f***king enormous!"

The scale almost seems to groan as I step on, but it bears its heavy load and finally spits out the result. I obviously can't see the result over the crest of my belly, but can tell it must be an astronomical number by the reaction of my trio of FA's ... dead silence and stunned looks. Finally, Serge shouts out "I win, I win!" "You mean ..." I start to ask. "Yes, Blubber Boy," Nora shouts and hugs me, "766 pounds!" Now it's me stammering ... "you mean ... 163 pounds in 21 days?" "The scale doesn't lie my sweet Pig," Marcel whispers in my ear while grabbing a big handful of belly blubber and giving it an affectionate shake.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon was business as usual -- I ate and ate and ate some more. Although Marcel and Serge are used to it by now, Nora is simply amazed by volume of my intake now compared to just three weeks ago. While we all pause occasionally to chat, I mostly concentrate on stuffing my face through breakfast, mid-morning snack, early lunch, then late lunch. Finally around 1 p.m., Nora announces it is time to take me home.

By then my consumption was winding down, as I was working my way through the last of four lunchtime desserts the boys had prepared, flourless chocolate cake. I am so full that I have developed a wicked case of the hiccups, my whole body jiggling with each one. Nora can't stop laughing. "Oh my god, Fat Boy, it's like watching a jello mold have the hiccups." I frown and she holds up a hand and says, "sorry, sorry, it's just so cute." She then fetches me some water and the hiccups eventually subside.

"Okay, let's get out of here!" she said, and I can tell she is aching to have me all to herself at home. "Marcel? Serge? Can I get a hand?"

The boys pull the food cart away so that I can get help from them to heave myself to my feet. Once on my feet, Nora pulls a huge horse blanket out of a bag and wraps it around me to hide my nudity, only even it is not quite big enough for me now that I'm over 760 pounds! With Marcel and Serge on either arm, I begin my slow waddle toward the doorway. I find myself rocking my weight from one massive leg to the other, because otherwise I would tire too quickly from my knees bouncing against my apron. Although my sides brush the door jam as I move through, the clearance is just enough for me. Two more interior doorways and finally I'm at the back door of the building that opens onto an alley. That appears to be a bit more of a tight squeeze than the interior doors, which obviously had been widened over the years to accommodate Marcel's and Serge's plus-sized clientele. This door seems to have been original to the building and is only about three and a half feet wide, whereas I am now over eight feet around!

Nora tells me that she has a panel van waiting for me on the other side and she needs me to wedge myself through the tight opening. She goes through the door first to collect the van driver who will help her pull, while Marcel and Serge stay behind to push. When she returns with the driver, a 6'5" brute who looks like a former NFL defensive end, each of them is carrying a delicious-looking pie.

"Thought you might need a little encouragement," she says in a lusty tone of voice, "make it through the door and you get to eat these on the way home ..." The driver looks at me and just smiles ...

11-08-2015, 09:28 PM
Home At Last

I turn myself sideways, thinking that might present a smaller profile, and manage to shuffle about a third of my body through the door before getting stuck. Nora encourages me with a "come on Fatty, you can do it!" and grabs my arm to pull, while the driver starts trying to manipulate my belly to try to provide some clearance. Serge does the same on my back side, while Marcel pushes for all he is worth. Soon about half of my body is wedged through, allowing Nora and the driver to get a better hold of me from the outside, with the driver now being able to reach his right arm into the gap between my moobs and top shelf and his left arm between my back moobs and love handles to get a firm grasp on me. The force of him pulling from that direction and the boys pushing from the other eventually gets me through the tight opening, but the force of freeing myself rockets me into the alley and I fall right on top of the poor driver, knocking the wind out of him! "Quick, roll him off," yells Marcel and he and Serge pull me off the driver, now struggling to regain his breath.

"Are you alright?," Nora asks with a tone of concern. "I'm OK," I say and she laughs and says, "no I meant him!," pointing to the driver. "You coulda cracked some ribs falling on him like that -- you outweigh him by 400 pounds!" I look over at the driver, just now getting his breath back and tell him, "sorry man." "It's OK," he responds, "no harm done, now let's get you home Big Man."

The four of them help me get back to my feet, though not without struggle, and I make it the twenty or so steps to the van, your typical white GMC "serial killer" panel van with no markings. The driver pulls a sturdy aluminum step out of the van and I plant one foot on it, while the driver and Serge give each of my buttocks a strong push so that I can plant my other other foot on the floor of the van. Then another push from the strong guys and both feet are inside the van, causing it to pitch violently to the side under my 766 pounds of weight. "Guess we'll need some new shocks," I hear Nora whisper to the driver and I chuckle to myself, self-aware enough to know she is probably right about that!

I lean over, then two more shuffling steps and I plop down in what looks like an extra heavy-duty seat and the van bounces up and down a few times under the force of my ass hitting the vinyl. I hear Nora chuckle and say "yep, those shocks are definitely shot!" I turn my head to face Nora and ask "how about those pies?" She climbs into the seat behind me while Marcel hands me one of the pies and places the other in Nora's hands. He smiles and tells me "I know my Pig loves blueberry ... and the other one is your second favorite ... cherry." I lick my lips and tell him thanks for all his attention the last six weeks. Serge sticks his head into the van too and I thank him also ... I think I even see a tear in his eyes ...

In spite of my leg-strengthening exercises over the weeks, I'm pretty exhausted from the ordeal of waddling out to the van and particularly from having my body pushed through that tight doorway. Fortunately, the ride home takes about a half hour, which enables me to recover my strength ... and to consume both pies!

The driver is silent the whole time, keeping his eyes to himself, while Nora whispers sweet nothings to me from the back seat, telling me what she is going to do to my big fat body when we get home, and massages my shoulders. At stop lights, she releases her seat belt and leans forward and alternates nibbling on my huge roll of neck fat and my ear lobes. Between that and the pies I felt like I was in Heaven!

Finally the driver pulls the van into our driveway and Nora has him pull us around the back of the house where we have double french doors more than wide enough for me to fit through. She brushes my neck affectionately with her hand and asks "aren't you glad we had those double doors installed last year?" I laugh and say "yeah, I probably wouldn't fit through the old door!" She laughs too and says "no way you'd fit now, Fatty!" Even the driver laughed at that one ...

He gets out of the driver's seat and walks around to open the cargo door and set up the step for me. Then he reaches a strong arm through the door to help pull me to the edge of my seat and with him pulling both of my arms and Nora pushing me from behind I make it to the edge of doorway and gingerly lower one foot onto the step, then the other, and another step and both of my feet are on the ground, surprised at how easy it was. Another few steps and I'm through the double door where a massive new feeding chair awaits my ass. I sit down for a couple of minutes to catch my breath, then the driver and Nora get me to my feet and waddling toward our master bedroom. Fortunately, it too has a double door that I can easily fit through.

Before long I'm sitting on the side of our bed, which appears to be a sturdier model than the one we had when I was taken away six weeks ago. Nora dismisses the driver and asks him to lock up on his way out, handing him what appear to be several Benjamins for his troubles. On his way out, he turns around to me and snorts "have fun Fatty!" Nora looks at me, then turns to him, and says, "don't worry, he will!"

Once we hear the french doors slam shut, she removes my horse blanket and helps me lie down. "I can't believe how incredibly obese you've gotten over the last year" she coos. "Over 400 pounds gained ... over fifty inches added to your waist ... belly hanging down to your knees now ... you are just a big sexy mountain of blubber ... MY big sexy mountain of blubber!" She crawls in bed next to me and does what I know she has wanted to do all day -- run her hands over my body, sinking them into the rolls of my arm fat, then my huge sloping breasts, each gelatinous stretch-marked roll of my belly, especially the bottom one, and the rolls of thigh fat.

I look at the big mirrored wall across from me. "It's crazy how much you like me at this size, I'm like a sphere with arms and legs," I marvel. "You are very, very round," she agrees, "way bigger around now than you are tall," vibrating her hand on my belly to make it jiggle. And the way you ate today I'm sure you're going to get even fatter," she said.

"Speaking of that," I ask, "what have you got in the house?" I ask. Because, looking at the mountain of blubber that is me in the mirror, obviously what I need right now is more to eat.

"Just can't wait to shovel more food into that belly, huh? Good, me neither. Be right back with two dozen chocolate eclairs I have chilling in the fridge ... your favorite." She pauses at the doorway, looking back at me, and sighs. "Aren't you glad I love you being my enormous Blubber Boy, to feed and take care of?" I loved the way she called me "Blubber Boy," not the least bit derisively, but with total affection.

I smiled. I soon will be closing in on 800 pounds, nearly pinned to the bed by my rolls of dimpled lard, and yet I am about to demolish 24 eclairs. I am glad, truly glad ...


Author's Note: Special thanks go out to ffaboots (her Dimensions handle) aka baconpancakes (her Fantasy Feeder handle), the awesome FFA author, whose final chapter of "Gordo" provided inspiration for the last two chapters of this story. And, to be honest, it wasn't just inspiration -- I blatantly ripped off some of her great material. I figure why tinker with perfection! I just wish she would get back to writing sometime ... she is missed greatly in the fat fiction community.

fat hiker
11-09-2015, 09:41 PM
Great description, and a great ending - though I am almost sorry to see this story end. Thanks for writing!

fat hiker
05-02-2017, 05:36 AM
I'm bumping this as it provides such great inspiration and description for other stories!

05-06-2017, 05:32 AM
I'm bumping this as it provides such great inspiration and description for other stories!

I appreciate your bumping this, as this story truly is a classic and it would be a shame if it didn't get the maximum exposure it deserves.

Lovely work!