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Old 10-14-2005, 07:38 AM   #1
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Default Pamela Dumpling - by Anonymous (Both, WG, Dining, Dom, Sex)

Both, WG, Dining, Dom, Sex: Here's a little feeder/feedee romance of love and domination.

Pamela Dumpling

She caught my eye the very first time I saw her. I looked across the crowded restaurant and there she was, biting into a Danish pastry. She had a look of total pleasure on her face, oblivious to everything going on around her. She was pretty skinny -- too skinny for my taste -- maybe 130 lbs on her petite frame, with just a suggestion of roundness to her cheeks. I looked away, so I wouldn't be accused of staring at her. She was very pretty. When I glanced back in her direction, someone had gotten in the way and I could only see her auburn hair when she leaned back in her chair.

As I made my way out, I saw that she was sitting alone. She was looking around the room in that way pretty girls do when they're impatient for their dates to return to the table. I just had to speak to her.

"Hi," I said, "my name's John. I couldn't help noticing your lovely smile. It lit up the whole room and made my lunch much more agreeable."

"Hello, John," she said, smiling broadly at me, "my name is Pamela. I'm pleased to meet you." She leaned forward as she introduced herself and her blouse strained to contain her large breasts. I thought one of the buttons was going to give way. Also, her stomach, though not large, rolled delightfully under the tight fabric of her skirt.

"Pamela, I don't want to seem too aggressive, but would you be free for dinner some night this week?"

"As it happens," she purred, "I have no plans for this Friday night."

"That's fantastic," I replied. "Where can I pick you up and what time's best for you?"

"Do you have a card and a pen?" she asked demurely. I gave her two of my business cards and my pen. She wrote her address and phone number on one and slipped the other into her purse. She handed me the card with her address on it, saying, "Around seven-thirty, at this address?"

I inspected the address and her phone number and nodded. "I'll be there promptly at 7:30." She held out her hand for me to shake and I decided to be continental and kiss it instead. It was very soft and had a delicious perfume. She smiled and looked just a little flattered and confused.

I made my exit swiftly, just before her date got back. She flashed me a smile as I looked back at her. I couldn't wait for Friday.

It was only Tuesday and I couldn't get her out of my mind. I kept seeing that picture of her face as she ate the Danish. I looked through the paper and selected from among a variety of movies, shows, and other entertainments. I really didn't know anything about Pamela, except that she liked Danish pastries. I tried to analyze her by what she had worn to the restaurant, but didn't get much further than business casual, a little tight across the chest. I ruled out anything too strenuous.

Then I saw it. The dinner train was having a special - in addition to the usual dinner, scenery, and winery tour, there was a bakers and confectioners bazaar at the winery. She liked pastry and it would give me a chance to see her sampling all kinds of sinful delights.

When Friday finally came, I equipped myself with my best suit, flowers, and a big box of assorted Belgian chocolates. Her address turned out to be a typical small house for the neighborhood. The yard was a little shabby. I wondered if she lived with elder parents. Five minutes early, I ascended the stairs and rang the doorbell.

She opened the door and gave me the same broad smile. Her eyes lit up when she saw the flowers, matching the blue of her very becoming dress that looked about a size too big for her. She invited me into the entry, where I waited until she'd dealt with the flowers. I revised my earlier estimation. The place looked very much like she was the only resident.

When she came back, I gave her the chocolates and again she thanked me and blushed. I helped her into her coat and we went out. She paused for a moment over the chocolates, and quickly slipped them into her coat, with a furtive glace at me to see if I'd seen. I pretended I hadn't.

"Where are we going, John?" she asked, as we descended the steps toward my car.

"I thought we'd take the dinner train," I replied, opening the door for her.

"Oh, I always wanted to do that, but never have until tonight," she commended, settling herself on the seat.

I went around the car and saw her slip a chocolate into her mouth. I took my time starting the car, being careful not to speak too soon, before she'd had a chance to chew and swallow the large chocolate she'd put in her mouth. I asked her if she was ready and she nodded.

As I drove, she chatted about nothing in particular intermittently. I told her some about myself. When I embarked on one of these monologues, she'd sneak another chocolate. When she was on the verge of stuffing the fourth piece in her mouth, I put my hand on hers and said, "Please, allow me." I took the chocolate from her soft hand and placed it gently in her mouth while I waited for the light to change. "I like women who like chocolate," I declared. She took the box of chocolates from under her coat and thereafter, while we talked, I would occasionally pick a piece from the box and feed it to her.
I'm sorry," she admitted on her tenth piece of chocolate. "I've been starving myself all week. I so wanted to make a good impresion. But I just can't help myself. I love chocolate."

"Believe me, Pamela," I offered, "you are making a wonderful impression. There's nothing I like better than a girl who can't help herself."

Just then, we pulled into the parking lot for the train and after I parked, I took one more piece of chocolate and fed it to her slowly and deliberately. She chewed it slowly and luxuriously, enjoying every it bit of it. Then I got out and opened her door. "They have a wonderful menu on this train," I said. "I do hope you're not too full."

"Oh no," she said with feeling, "I'm never too full. I'm still famished." Then she added in a deeper, slightly comical voice, reminiscent of the Cookie Monster from Sesame Street, "Feed me."

I stopped, turned, embraced her and gave her a kiss on the lips, which she returned with passion, holding me close and not holding back at all and pressing her body against me like it was the most natural and comfortable thing in the world to do. Like we'd been lovers for years. She tasted wonderfully chocolaty.

We walked hand-in-hand to the train and boarded it. I ordered us each a cocktail as we waited for the train to start. I excused myself and found the waiter on the way to the restroom. I gave him $20 and told him he'd earn another $30 if he made sure my date had extra generous portions and was always supplied with plenty of bread and butter. "Make sure she always has plenty to eat," I told him. He gave me a knowing smile and I returned to out table. Her glass was empty, so I ordered her another. Then the train left the station.

The waiter did his job well and started Pamela off with a big plate of deep fried appetizers and some rich, creamy sauce for dipping. She dug right in, like she was starved and ate with obvious enjoyment. I ordered us a bottle of wine. While we waited, I took a soft bread stick, split it down the length, opened it out and buttered it with three little pats of butter. When I handed it to her, she bit into it and gave me a very sexy look and a groan/moan of pleasure. She ate half of it and then held it out to me and I took a big bite of it. She watched me eat with a very sexy look on her face and then finished the rest of the breadstick herself. The waiter brought me a dinner salad and brought her a plate of tiny sandwiches made with a selection of pates, cheeses and olives.

"Oh, I love these," she said, digging in and eating one after the other. "How did you know?"

"Lucky, guess," I said.

Her portion of breaded chicken breast was twice the size of my own and had four times the rich creamy sauce on it. She sate it all with a dozen more bread sticks I prepared for her. Each time she ate one, she gave me one large bite and then ate the rest herself. She ate everything on her plate, even using bread sticks to wipe up the last of the rich sauce from her chicken.
Then the train arrived at the winery. I helped Pamela up and out of the train. Then we got out of the train, we were struck by an overpowering array of delicious aromas: fresh-baked bread, chocolate, sweet pastries, and fried food.

"Oh, My God," she exclaimed, taking a deep breath, "I think I'm in heaven!" She was very eager and excited.

We wandered forth into a food bazaar of perhaps a hundred different vendors. Everybody had samples and Pamela didn't miss a single one. Each time we'd come to a stand, she'd get me one of the samples and feed it to me and then get a couple for herself. Often, she'd engage the person in the stand in animated conversation about their particular delicacies and her smiles and attention would earn her an extra big sample. Whenever she really liked something, I bought some for her to take home. I bought her several pounds of several kinds of fudge, a dozen different selections of rich, sweet pastries, several kinds of cookies, two big box of fresh filled donuts, and of course a couple bakers' dozen Danish.

Pamela was walking much slower as we made our way back to the train, in response to the warning whistle. Her dress, which had been loose fitting and a little large on her when I picked her up, was tight across her middle now. My own belt felt quite tight around my middle, but I didn't mind. She looked good enough to eat as I followed her up the narrow circular stair back to our table. She collapsed across the table from me and I raised her feet to my knees and massaged her feet. She leaned back and gave me a thankful look, closed her eyes and napped for a few minutes.

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Old 10-14-2005, 07:40 AM   #2
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Default Pamela Dumpling - 2

Then the train started the return trip with a little jolt. She excused herself to the ladies and when she returned, she found that there were three big pieces of cheese cake and a huge slice of chocolate cake on her side of the table. She looked questioningly to me and I said, "they brought you a choice of deserts: blueberry, cherry, or caramel cheese cake or the chocolate torte."

She sat down a little heavily, grasped her fork and replied, "Who can choose. What should I eat first?"

"Please," I said, taking her fork from her, "allow me." She smiled and I proceeded to feed her each of the three large cheese cake slices and my own in turn. Every fourth bite, she'd take my fork and feed me a small bite of cheese cake. She looked longingly at the chocolate cake about half way through, and I replied to her mute question, "just saving the best for last."

I fed her slowly and lovingly. When I started to move my fork to the huge piece of chocolate cake, she took my hand in hers and without saying a word, took her fork and fed me the whole slice, bite-by-bite, looking deeply and yearningly into my eyes. After the first half, it was a struggle to eat more, but she looked at me with those smoldering eyes of passion and I just couldn't say no. She finished feeding me the last bite of the cake as we pulled into the terminal. We waited for everyone else to leave before I helped her up and out of the train.

"Oh, I almost forgot," I exclaimed, going back up the stairs. I paid the waiter and thanked him. "She's got a good appetite," he remarked. I retrieved the food I'd bought at the bazaar. I held up the packages, "didn't want to forget these!" I exclaimed, returning to Pamela on the platform.

We walked very slowly back to my car. Pamela leaned heavily on my arm the whole way. I helped her into the passenger seat and stowed the bundles in the trunk. She slumbered in her seat as I drove her slowly home.

When we got there, I woke her gently and helped her out of the car. "Could you please help me in?" she asked. I helped her up the steps and inside. I then went back and got the bundles. "I'm in here," she called from the kitchen at the back of the little house. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" she inquired when I got to the kitchen. I replied in the affirmative. "I've put the coffee on," she said, motioning me towards the through the diningroom into the livingroom. "Please make yourself comfortable, John, while I get out of these fancy clothes."

She was gone perhaps ten minutes. In her absence, I returned to the kitchen and unpacked the goodies and placed them on a several large platters I located in her kitchen. These I brought into the livingroom. She came in carrying a tray. She was dressed in a white terry cloth robe. She put it down on the coffee table and poured us each a cup of coffee. "Cream?" she asked and I shook my head no. She poured a generous measure of thick cream into her own cup. "Sugar?" she asked and again I shook my head no. She picked up the sugar bowl and slowly and deliberately put five heaping teaspoons of coffee into the cup. She handed me my cup and stirred her own. Then she took a sip and said, "Aaah, just right."

"My last boyfriend hated me to eat anything," she declared out of the blue. "He was always forcing me to diet and get thinner and thinner. I weighed 165 lbs. when I met him and by the time we broke up I was down under 120 lbs. I think I'm having a reaction."

"That must have been horrid for you, but I like the reaction," I said with a smile and an offer of a large piece of fudge. She leaned forward and took the fudge from my fingers with her mouth slowly, looking in my eyes earnestly. She chewed it ecstatically. Then she took a piece and brought it to my lips, her lips parted as I opened my mouth and she watched me with increasing excitement while I chewed the rich confection.

"Can I conclude that you don't like thin women?" she inquired.

"I can say without reservation," said I, preparing to burn my boats, "that I like full-figured women. They are so much sexier."

"I like big men," she said with enthusiasm, looking at the floor, "the bigger the better - and I don't mean tall." She looked into my eyes questioning whether I had an objection to what she'd said.

"Once a man has chosen his woman, he should conform to her ideal. To me, the bigger a woman becomes, the more attractive she is to me. I've lost several girlfriends because they gained weight and it got to be a contest between us - me wanting them heavier, and they obsessing about losing weight."

"I know just what you mean," she said, "Fat men are so sexy. The fatter I get, the happier I am. If he really loves me, he'll want me to be happy. So I want a man who loves me fat."

"Then happier you get, the more attractive you will be to me and the happier I will be," I answered. "It's just the way I am."

"Really," she said. She looked deeply into my eyes, stood up and let her robe fall open. "So," she crooned, moving closer, "you don't think, at 145 lbs, I'm too fat?"

I looked at her and shook my head, no. "No, of course not, In fact, I think you're much too thin, but you are very pretty and show great promise for becoming a real beauty."

"I'm starving," she exclaimed, "feed me!" I stood up into her embrace and kissed her deeply and passionately.

My hands caressed her body as we kissed. Her large, full breasts pressed against me and I felt her body quiver with excitement as I caressed her plumpness. Her hands explored my body and it felt so good. I let her go and looked her up and down. "You look starved," I said. She smiled and sat down next to me on the couch. I fed her a large piece of gooey pastry. She enjoyed it so much. Her whole body radiated pleasure. She kissed me.
"You're much too thin, too," she said, picking up a piece of fudge and placing it in my mouth. She looked so appreciative as I ate - it turned her on so much, it made me so hungry.

"That boyfriend, Frank" she said as I chewed, "At first he encouraged me to eat. He was 5'5" and weighed about 280." She paused, "How much do you weigh, John?" She got flustered. "Forgive me for asking, you don't have to answer," she concluded blushing. She started to move away, but I took her by her hands and moved her closer to me.

"You can ask me anything, dear one," I replied, letting her go and bringing a large pastry smothered in buttery frosting to her lips. She got another and brought it to my lips before taking a large bite of her pastry. I took a big bite of mine at the same time. When we'd eaten them, I continued, "Well, I'm 5'10" and weighed about 215 this morning."

She kissed me and then continued, "Frank loved to eat and he liked my hearty appetite at first, but then when I gained weight, he wanted me to lose it and get thin. He didn't think he was handsome because he was fat and he didn't think I was more beautiful because I was fatter. It was just a lie." She paused and finished her coffee. She poured herself another cup, again adding a generous measure of cream and five heaping teaspoons of sugar. She offered me some, but I wasn't finished my first cup yet. "How fat would you like me to be, John?" she asked coyly.

"Oh," said I, wondering whether I could really state my feelings. As I fed her yet another large piece of fudge, I decided to be honest. "I doubt you could ever get too fat for me."

"Really?" she asked, feeding me another piece of fudge. "Well, I could try couldn't I?" she asked provocatively. I turned to look her straight in the face. I kissed her and I shared my mouthful of fudge with her. It became a contest to see which of us could get more of the fudge.

When we separated from our kiss her lips and chin we covered with chocolate, as were mine. She turned on the couch and got up on her knees and licked the chocolate off my face. I told her, "good girl!" when she finished.
Then I licked the chocolate off her face and she said, "good boy!"

"I've always dreamed of finding someone like you," she said dreamily, embracing me. "I dreamed of finding a man who would feel the same compulsion to feed me that I feel to be fed. I wanted a man who would glorify my body and adore every new ounce I added to it. A man who really thought fatter was more beautiful. Frank knew how much I wanted to be controlled and he used that to make me diet. It was horrible."

Suddenly, I decided something. I could not bear to let this one get away. She was too perfect. "Pamela," I said, taking her hand in mine and looking earnestly into those hungry eyes, "marry me. You are the woman of my dreams in every way and I will control you in every way and you will never ever diet."

"You can't be serious," she objected. "We know practically nothing about each other!"

"I know everything I need to know," I said. "You're intelligent, kind, submissive, beautiful and about to get more beautiful. I will love you with all my heart and care for you in every way."

"You want your wife to eat like this all the time and get really fat, you're not just saying that?" she asked.

"The best girlfriend I ever had weighed over 600 lbs, I worshiped her, but I was too immature and she wanted more dominance than I could give her then. Her body has been the ideal against which I compared other women, ever since."

"Do you think I can measure up to that ideal?" she wondered.

"I know you can, if your husband commands it, you will. I will require you to eat, eat just as much as you can, and you will never be too fat for me, and I will control you in every way and you will get fatter and fatter and fatter."

"Feed me more and tell me you will never stop," she implored.

"Be mine, and I will never stop feeding you," I replied.

"Alright. I will marry you. I belong to you, now and forever," she said with finality and I fed her an enormous jelly filled doughnut.
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Old 10-14-2005, 07:43 AM   #3
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"More please, show me how to be a good wife to you," she begged.

"Always, my love," said I and fed her another. "We will be married the day you reach 200 lbs."

"Oh, thank you," she squealed, embracing me and kissing me deeply. We kissed for quite a while. Then she fed me a creamy Danish.

"Give me your keys, my plump fiance," I told her. She complied immediately. without comment. "Good girl," I complimented her. "When I get back, which will be in about half an hour, you should be finished the donuts." She pouted. "And you may have as much of the remaining fudge as you like." She brightened up and embraced me. We kissed again.

I left her eating an enormous maple bar and waving to me. There was a health food store just a couple of blocks away and I made a bee-line for it. I bought out their entire stock of super-weight gain powder in both vanilla and chocolate. I then went a couple blocks away and bought all the heavy whipping cream from the grocery and finally finished up at KFC, where I bought four large buckets of greasy chicken.

It was just 35 minutes. Pamela was watching out the window for me, once again in her robe. She was chewing contentedly on a large piece of fudge as I came in, all loaded down with the groceries. She rushed to help me, but I said, "No, Pamela. My wife will be fat and pampered and not lift a finger." She sat down meekly on the couch and I went into the kitchen. I put the groceries away and located a gallon jug. I filled half way with the heavy whipping cream and added one of the cannisters of chocolate super weight gain powder. It took quite a while to mix. Then I poured a large glass of the creamy weight gain shake and brought it out to Pamela.

"Taste this," I ordered. She took a long slow drink of it. "It is super weight gain shake made with heavy cream."

"Mmmmmm, that is so good," she announced.

"Nothing is too good for my fiance," I declared.

She finished most of it and handed it to me. "And nothing is too good for my fiance," she said with a captivating smile. I drank the rest and kissed her again.

She giggled and looked adoringly into my eyes. "Please feed me," she begged. I raised her into my embrace and kissed her passionately before releasing her and bringing a large eclair to her waiting hungry mouth. She brought her lips to mine with each bite and we shared the whole eclair together.

"Oooh," she said, "I am soooo full." She opened her robe and showed off her tightly distended stomach. I massaged it gently for her. She caressed my hair.

"Well, Rome wasn't built in a day," I replied. "It is time you were in bed."

She led me to her bedroom. I relieved her of her robe and hung it up for her. "You brush your teeth and get ready for bed, while I put away the food for tomorrow." There was only one remaining piece of fudge, from all the pounds I'd bought. The donuts were gone. There were still about half a box of Danish. There were four untouched bags of cookies and half a box of chocolates. I took them all into the kitchen and put them all away except for a bag of cookies. I took two big oatmeal cookie and covered them in half an inch of butter and put it on a plate with the remaining piece of fudge. Then I refreshed her glass of cream and returned to Pamela in the bedroom with the glass and plate.

She was sitting up in bed waiting for me expectantly. When she saw the buttered cookies, she got up on her knees in bed and welcomed me to a very passionate embrace. We kissed and I put the glass and plate on the night stand. I took the last piece of fudge and popped it in my own mouth. She looked at me with such a look of adoration and lust as I have never seen before.

"Your fat girl got you a new tooth brush," she told me.

"You are going to be the nicest, fattest wife ever," I assured her. She squealed with delight and I went into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and took off my clothes and folded them. When I returned to the bedroom, Pamela looked at me appreciatively. "Mmmmm," she said, smiling at me. "You sure look good. Do you like what you see," she asked, on her knees naked on the bed.
I walked around the bed, looking at her from every angle. Her large breasts and her long auburn were her most prominant features. Her stomach protruded delightfully and she had the beginnings of love handles. He ass was large and looked even larger, partially obscured by her hair. I wanted her heavier, especially her arms and thighs, which were really too thin. "Aside from the fact that you're much too thin," I replied, "you look very good, too."

"Well," she said motioning me to her side, "you won't have to put up with a skinny little girlfriend for long."

"The great pleasure you take in eating was the first thing that drew me to you," I said, "that and your lovely smile."

"How much did you pay the waiter on the train?" she asked with a smile. "He gave me twice as much food as anyone else in the car. It was such a pleasure to be a total pig."

I kissed her. "Such a good pig, too," I said. "I paid him $20 before we left," I told her, "and another $30 afterwards, as agreed." She embraced me and then we kissed.

"There isn't anything you wouldn't tell me, is there?" she asked.

"My wife should have no secrets from me. This means I should have none from her," I explained. She kissed me and fed me the remaining cookie while I sat on the bed and then handed me the glass, which I drank half of and then she finished and kissed me again.

"John, you don't mind getting fatter for me?" she asked.

"No, dearest," I replied, "why should I mind being more attractive to the woman I adore?" She put her arm around my belly and stroked it. I relaxed and pushed it out as much as I could. She kissed my belly and stroked my thighs.

"You are the most wonderful, sexiest man I have ever met," she said, looking up at me with an adoring expression. "I am so hungry." She held out the empty plate and glass to me with an adorable pouting expression that said, "more please."

"Such a fat pig you will be," I said, "and I will never tire of getting you more."
She grabbed my arm as I turned to leave and kissed me again. "Thank you, John. You're all my dreams come true."

I went to the kitchen, giddy with my good fortune. Pamela was such a wonderful girl, my dream girl, and I felt such an intense feeling of love for her as I had never experienced before for any woman. I buttered another cookie, thicker than before. I then poured out another glass of creamy weight-gain shake for Pamela and then, it looked so good, I drank the whole glass myself. I heard a a noise behind me as I put down the glass and turned and Pamela was there, rushing naked to embrace me.

"Oh, my God, oh my God, it's true" she said, embracing me and kissing me on my face and chest. She kissed down my body, all over the front of my naked body, rubbing and caressing my cock with her face adoringly before kissing right down to my feet, all the time, chanting, "oh God thank you, thank you, oh God thank you, thank you..."

I bent over her and raised her gently but firmly to her feet.

"You really do love me," she said. I nodded yes. "And you really do want me to get fatter and fatter." I nodded yes. "And you really feel that the fatter I get the more beautiful and attractive I will be." I nodded yes again. "And you love me, love me enough to believe me and want to please me and get fat for me." She started to cry. "I know people say stuff they want you to hear. But you, you drank that weight gain shake when I wasn't even there, because, because you love me." I nodded.

I took the buttered cookie and placed it in her waiting mouth. She ate it with such a rush of evident pleasure. "Thank you," I said, "thank you God. Thank you." Then we embraced and kissed. I sent her back to bed.

I returned in a few minutes with two more buttered cookies, and another glass of creamy weight gain shake. I got into bed and she snuggled up next to me. We explored each other's bodies eagerly and confidently. When she moved to climb on top of me and take my cock into her cunt, I said, "No, not yet, Pamela. First you must gain another 20 pounds."

"You surely know how to motivate a girl!" she replied but she compiled docile and lay down beside me. I made love to her body, her whole body lovingly, carefully, and thoroughly. She was most responsive when I was playing with her fat. She came hard while I was kissing and caressing her bloated tummy (and fondling her clit). Then I lay down beside her and when she caught her breath, she embraced me and snuggled me contentedly. When she'd rested thus for a few minutes, she went down on me orally, swallowing every drop of me when I came.

"Now my pig will sleep and dream about how very fat she will become," I told her. She lay down and in a few minutes, she was asleep. It was just midnight.
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Old 10-14-2005, 07:46 AM   #4
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At 2:30am, I woke her gently and gave her an eclair to eat, saying, "time for your two o'clock feeding, baby." She wolfed it down and then fell back into a contented slumber.

The next morning, I made us a big breakfast with syrupy pancakes, hasbrowns, fried eggs, sausage, ham, and plenty of buttery toast. While I was making it, she finished off the Danish and drank two glasses of weight gain cream. After breakfast, we weighed her and she was delighted to weigh in at 159 lbs. "Only 41 pounds to go until I can be your wife!" she exclaimed gleefully. "I suspect you were a bit low in your estimate of your weight yesterday," I said. "Well, maybe a little," she admitted. "I was dressed, and so I took off weight for my clothes and stuff. But please, don't make me wait longer to marry you, please, please," she begged, getting down on her knees before me, looking tearfully into my eyes.

"My soon to be wife," I replied, "what I say is so, will be so. I said 200 and 200 it will be." She squealed with delight and jumped into my embrace, kissing me very passionately and thanking me over and over again. I weighed in an 219 on her scale. We went out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, both naked and very full from breakfast. I saw that Pamela had been busy, because there was a full bucket of chicken on the tables at either side of the bed.

"I haven't told you everything about me yet," Pamela told me. She sat down on the bed and I sat next to her.

"You're not going to tell me you're 45 years old, are you," I asked jestingly.

"Nope," she replied with a mock slap, "just 24 a month ago." I looked at her and she looked barely 20 to me.

"Tell me everything, but tell me when it feels right," I replied.

"I was afraid before," she said. "I was afraid to tell you, because I thought you wouldn't understand. You see, I've been married before.

"But you're not married now?"

"God, no," the replied with a smile. "Divorced," she said and paused, "three times." She hung her head.

"Three times?" I said, sincerely shocked. "How old were you the first time, 12? I was feeling very special that you said yes to my marriage proposal, but I guess it's not such a big deal to you."

"No, John," said said, grasping my hands in hers, "I swore I'd never get married again. You are absolutely amazing and I still can't believe I said yes. I'm just afraid you'd not want to marry me."

"Were you afraid I'd not want you because you weren't a virgin?" I asked, with a chuckle.

"Well, kind of," she continued. She embraced me and I stroked her hair. "Each of my three marriages ended because I was unfaithful," she admitted.

"Go on," I said. She pulled away from me and got into the bed and I got in next to her.

Her back was turned to me. She held her body almost as if she were crying, but she continued. "I was unfaithful more than once. I was unfaithful a lot. I was a real slut. I had a real problem with saying 'no.'"

"You are a woman of great and consuming appetites," I responded. "It is to be expected that most men would be unwilling, or unable to satisfy you in every way you require. I like that you were a slut."

"But it wasn't just one or two," she said in a small voice. "It was dozens and dozens. I need fucking so much and I just can't say no."

"You're not telling me something that comes as a complete surprise," I said. "After all, you fucked me on our first date."

"See?" she said, "I was afraid you'd change your mind."

"I asled you to marry me when I was pretty damn sure you were going to fuck me on our first date," I countered. "Why would I change my mind now? You're even more exactly what I want."

"You want a pig whore slut?" she asked, "That's what Frank called me when we divorced."

Gently, I turned her onto her back. I stroked my hand down her cheek, down her neck and around her breasts. "Tell me about all these men," I said, pressing my erection against her thigh, "tell me about every single one of them."

She looked up at me with such a look of amazement and happiness. My hand travelled down her abdomen and I inserted my ring finger into her dripping snatch. "There was no one," she said. "They don't matter, none of them mattered. You are the only man who matters to me." I climbed on top of her and entered her. "I thought I needed to gain 20 lbs first," she said after a moment.

"Oh, but we did gain 20 lbs.," I replied, thrusting deep into her. "Unless it matters to you, why should I care how much you were fucked. I think of it as practice you did to become better for me."

"I never had any STDs," she said, thrusting bad at me and caressing my chest with her full, luscious mouth.

"Neither did I, but that doesn't matter now," I said breathlessly. "Whatever you have, I want. Whatever we have, we share." She reached under the pillow as I pounded into her and took out two big candy bars. She tore their wrappers off and stuffed one into her mouth and one she offered to me. I took it into my mouth and chewed it - and we both exploded in orgasm.

When I finished cumming and chewing, I got off of her and lay down on my back beside her. She was still convulsing from her orgasm and embraced me, humping my leg. She felt my still hard erection with her hand and mounted me, taking me deeply into her. I reached over under the pillow and found more candy bars. I unwrapped two and fed them to her as she pounded on and on. She started screaming and clawing at me with her finger nails. I held her by her hips and pounded back at her. I came again and she relaxed and collapsed on top of me, breathing very hard.

"Oh, my God," she said, "I thought it wasn't going to stop."

She clung to me, got gently off of me but lay embracing me. "I hope I didn't hurt you," she said after she'd regained her breath.

"People get worse from kittens every day, but they still love them," I said, caressing her head.

"Is it lunchtime yet? Cause I'm starved," she said.

"Who cares what time it is," said I. "Eat, Pig, eat!"

It took my wonderful pig Pamela just a little more than four months to gain sufficient weight to be married. On our honeymoon, she weighed just exactly 205 lbs. and I weighed 247 lbs. - we certainly made a striking couple.

It turned out that the house I took her home to was just one of her houses. She was a very wealthy woman and after a few months, I quit my job and stayed home to feed her and to look after her properties. As my wife, her appetite, if anything, got larger and she continued to put on weight steadily. She sincerely loved being fat and getting fatter and she loved to feed me, so I got fatter, too.

Every week, she would pose before me and show me her fat, loving the comments I made about how big my pig was getting, much fatter and more beautiful she had become. She would move her body to show off how much fatter she was getting, making great folds and rolls of fat for me to fondle and adore. She would get on the bed on her hands and knees, her breasts resting on the bed, and she'd say, "Look at how far down your pig's belly is, John. Oh, I can't wait until it rests on the bed, too. Give your fat pig some more chicken and Jojo's. I'm Hungry!"

The fatter I got the more she adored me. She loved to feel my fat and always told me how much more handsome and more attractive I got as I put on weight. Every morning when I sat up in bed, she would kiss my big belly and caress my love handles while she sucked my cock.

She loved it when I would oil her body. She said it made her feel such a beautiful fat pig, all greased up for my pleasure.

Her thighs and butt expanded week by week and her belly hung down larger and lower. Her beautiful triple chins and fleshy dimples wobbled enticingly when she ate. Her breasts, which had always been quite large, expanded into massive melons, each one bigger than her head. They hung down bigger and lower every month, swaying deliciously when she waddled by. Her arms got bigger and bigger and when she'd sit doubled over her meal, stuffing herself with both hands, her flesh swayed deliciously from her upper arms.

"John, I have a treat for you," she said one morning after breakfast. I was feeling pretty stuffed, but she wanted me to eat more, so when I came into the bedroom, she was lying in bed with her breasts covered in still warm thick bacon. "I know how you love bacon, darling. Come and get it." After I ate the bacon I licked her enormous tits clean.

About a month after that, I came into the kitchen pantry and found her there contentedly eating a big tub of lard.

"Oh, but Master," she explained with all three of her beautiful chins
wagging, "you've been gaining so much beautiful weight, your piggy felt like she was falling behind and she so much wanted to get fatter and fatter for you." I took a handful of the lard and put it in my mouth and then kissed her, pushing all the lovely lard down her. Then I took the rest of it and covered my cock with it and she ate it all off.

On our one year anniversary, she weighed 326 lbs. and I weighed 296. One our second anniversary she was 470 delicious quivering pounds and I was a mountain at 360. Pamela was a perfect wife in every way. She loved to lie back immobile on the bed while being fed buckets of fried chicken and boxes of donuts. Every time I fed her, she wanted to make love, and every day she got fatter, more beautiful, and more loving. She could never get enough.
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Old 10-26-2005, 12:55 PM   #5
a nut, but not just a nut
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WG is also a state of Mind for me and you hit it with your first sentences, hope to read more
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Old 05-16-2007, 09:54 AM   #6
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Wow, hadn't seen this one before... worth a look-see... very nicely done!
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Old 01-20-2015, 05:34 AM   #7
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hehe a really sexy nice story ;-)
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