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Old 12-14-2008, 02:35 PM   #1
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Join Date: Oct 2005
Location: nevada, near Lake Tahoe
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Default Over the Edge by Maxout (~BHM, Autofeeding, Magic ~SWG)

~BHM, Autofeeding, Magic ~SWG - A would-be BHM acts out a forbidden fantasy with his wife out of town and gets some unanticipated help

[Author's Comment: Hello all. It's been awhile, so perhaps I should re-introduce myself. Over the past several years I've submitted several stories which are in the archives. I also have a site with all 40 plus of my stories called Maxout's Story Shop.

Anyway - Over The Edge is one of my more recent efforts, so I thought I'd share it with you. As is the case with most of my work, it is not an instant gratification, massive weight gain (although there are dream sequences that run along that line) tale, but more of a frame of mind, with some eating and the aformentioned dream sequences, kind of piece. There also exists an underlying degree of something supernatural.

So, I hope you enjoy the story. Comments are appreciated, and if you like the style and tone, I encourage you to check out my other work via the archives and my site.]

By Maxout

Chapter One

It was time. He knew it was coming, had given it some serious thought and planning, and yet now that it was here he had that same old tingle of apprehension. He knew all too well that the majority of the negativity he was feeling was merely a conditioned response, and yet, even though he was a maverick by nature, he had to admit it was one thing to talk the talk and quite another to come to the edge and take that last step.

He had often thought of this moment as coming out of the closet. In both instances the sexual wiring is a little left of the norm, and that being the case there exists the potential for disdain and ridicule, which in his case shouldn’t factor as a deterrent simply because part of the juice was in being noticed and singled out.

So the day had arrived and yet he wondered at his reluctance. Part of him realized that it was just another step down a road he wanted to travel, and reasoned that if he so desired he could just as easily turn around and head back, but deep in his heart he knew; all the baby steps he had taken over the last five years had led him to the edge, and once here the next step would be a statement, for which once taken could not be taken back.

He found himself, as he often did, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He still recognized himself, and believed that he could, at this moment, still pass as his old self, though the occasional dipping of his little toe in the deep waters had made some changes; he could see them clear as day, but to this point had received no outside acknowledgement of the change; something he feared and yet craved.

He assumed that part of the non-acknowledgement was simply due to societal factors, which, when you think about it is bizarre as on one hand society is so ready to ostracize and then on the other too polite to make verbal that same distaste. He imagined that there was probably already some gossip, talk behind his back by others who had noticed his change, but of course it would be an egregious sin to confront him with those same words.

Oh he could just hear the relish in their voices as they espoused their observations. The glee that someone else had succumbed and by doing so had perforce increased their own sense of self worth. A manifesto that the failure of others increased their position in the world.

He wanted no part of that rationale, in fact, for the most part simply wanted to be left alone, in spite of his deep seated yearning to be singled out. There was a certain perverse logic in wanting to be the focal point of everyone’s derision while truly not caring about your supposed lack of fortitude. The fact that the physical manifestation of your choice was the direct result of a conscious decision on your part made the potential of their scorn all the more ironic.

So why hold back? Looking over the edge there wasn’t really anything akin to vertigo, no great demon waiting to devour his soul. So take that last step. Give your private passion the week you said you’d give it, and if the end result is an obvious physical evidence of your perversity, then you get the recognition you’ve desired all along: a win win situation if there ever was one.

He steeled his resolve and let it begin, vowing that once he started he was not going to give a halfhearted effort. What was the old saying “in for a penny, in for a pound”. Yes indeed, all that and more.

Beginning the week by driving his wife to the airport for her annual Yule time visit with her parents, he began the one-hour drive home by taking a detour for an assorted dozen Krispy Kreme’s. By the time he arrived back home four donuts had found their way into his mouth, his lips covered with confectioner’s sugar. He was feeling amped up and wired, due in no small amount to the sugar intake. But there was more to it than just a sugar rush; he was living the dream and the anticipation of the rest of the week was a palpable pleasure.

Five years ago when he first began to dabble, he had managed to gain ten pounds on a similar weeklong foray. While he had enjoyed the first signs of a rounding to his belly he was torn between the need to be noticed at his new weight and at the same time fearing just that. He held his breath when he picked his wife up at the airport. Would she notice right off? She gave him a hug; did he feel any softer? He breathed a sigh of relief, tinged with a bittersweet sense of loss that she either didn’t notice or wasn’t saying.

That evening as they disrobed to soak in the hot tub he wondered again if she would notice. He was tempted to stick out his belly, but then that would just be faking it, wouldn’t it? No, he wanted an all natural response to how he really looked, feeling that if he forced her to take notice then the victory was hollow. Again, he was met with silence.

As he thought back to that first experiment he recalled how sturdy his metabolism was. Through no serious effort on his part 8 of the 10 pounds vanished within the following week. At the time he met this with mixed feelings; wondering if it was some kind of cosmic sign that he should simply leave his perverse yearning alone since it was obvious that his body wasn’t cut out for easy weight gain.

Still, little by little, persistence paid off. He fondly remembered the following year when wifey once again departed, this year a week later than usual. The day after her departure was the annual bridge group Xmas dinner party. It fell on him to bring deserts for the 40 members, so he purchased three large cheesecakes. At the end of the festivities as he was helping clean up he noticed that only one cake had disappeared and the other two were only half eaten. He asked around to see if anyone else wanted to take them home, and when all replied in the negative he realized that serendipity was smiling upon him.

The next day he got home from work, and after eating a sizeable dinner sat down at the computer with one of the half cheesecakes by his side. After two hours of gaming fun he looked over to see that the plate was empty. His stomach gurgled and he felt a rush of incredible fullness. He undid the snap on his slacks, easing the tension and then stared absently at his engorged belly. He began rubbing, feeling his tummy so hard and distended.

Rising from the computer he went to take a shower. As the hot water rained down on him he reveled in the slight convex curve of his belly, imagining how he would feel if his belly were twice as large, letting his mind flow on the stream of “I’m going to be fat”.

His hand moved slowly downward from his belly to find a not surprisingly stiff shaft, itself engorged. As he dreamed of his future immensity he pleasured himself, relishing the intense carnality of his lust.

Spent, he still felt overly sexy. The joy of his experience and the heightened sense of reality made him want to gorge even more. He raced into the kitchen wearing only a terry cloth robe and proceeded to devour the second half cheesecake. Bite after bite in rapid succession, not tasting, not feeling, simply living inside the act itself, believing that with every forkful he was getting fatter and fatter.

When the cheesecake was consumed he gazed down at his belly through a part between the two sides of the robe. It was glistening hard pink and swollen, distended as if he were pregnant. He rubbed it lovingly and then rose from the table, deciding that he wanted to get a better view of his immensity via the standing mirror in the closet. When he rose it felt as if a bowling ball had fallen to the pit of his stomach. He waddled down the hallway and disrobed in front of the mirror, reveling at the way his gut jutted out from his torso.

“I bet I’ve gained 10 pounds tonight” he thought, and then raced into the bathroom to step on the scale. He was disappointed that the scale only showed a four-pound gain since morning. Sad, it felt like so much more! Still, four pounds is nothing to sneeze at. Imagine, four pounds today, one pound yesterday, and he’s still got five more days before the wife gets home. Could he possibly outdo last year and gain say 15 pounds in the week! Two pounds a day!

Oh man, he was getting hard again just thinking about it. He theorized that it was possible that all this food was giving him extra fuel, making him a sexual superman; if nothing more, since he was acting out his sexual dream it sure wasn’t doing his libido any harm.

Sadly, later that evening, when his heart rate had slowed down, he began feeling the effects of having eaten in effect an entire large cheesecake. His body actually began to tremble from the sugar imbalance, feeling a coldness coursing through him. He was too wired to sleep, but then suddenly he crashed into a fitful sleep filled with oddly disconnected hallucinatory nightmares.

His body was seriously wacked out for the next two days, and even now he can’t bring himself to seriously consider eating cheesecake. So, derailed by sugar shock he ended the week with only a two pound gain, but with the sweet memory of that incredible gorging high.

As he sat idly munching on a snickers bar his mind drifted back to that summer, what was it, two years ago now? He had met up with a young lady on the net who, after he poured out his desires and frustrations agreed to be his long distance feeder. What a glorious time it was. Binging on the sly and then telling her all the details. There was an evil feeling of glee when he stole into the kitchen just before bedtime to imbibe a heaping tablespoon of peanut butter, as he had heard that this tactic just before bed was a real good gaining technique.

In truth it worked, especially coupled with the twice weekly forays into town to “pick up the mail”, wherein he made the detour to Jack In The Box for a grilled sourdough burger and their new extra large milk shake. He managed to gain 8 pounds over a three month period, but it wasn’t enough for his internet feeder. She began to make things a little bit too personal, which along with a lingering sense of wrongdoing concerning both his wife and his appearance, caused him to break things off.

He licked chocolate off his fingers remembering oh so well. He came so close to the edge that summer. His body was beginning to alter as overall he was almost twenty pounds heavier than when he began binging. His musculature was slowly being camouflaged by a thin layer of flab, especially around his belly where he could now pinch an inch of fat just below his belly button.

If only he had continued on that year, kept eating the occasional extra meal and those dollops of peanut butter. He was sure that by the time of the annual east coast trek he would have already been in position where a weeklong binge would have done the trick for sure. But no matter, it didn’t happen then, but was going to happen now. The key was not when it would happen, but simply that it was going to.

He was brought out of his reverie by the timer dinging to signify that his pizza was ready to eat. He retrieved it from the oven, quartered it with a knife and quickly devoured one of the massive slices. He began to feel that great buzz that he felt when he was into one of his binge states. The second slice disappeared and then the third, washed down with a couple of brews. He vowed that this week there would be no turning back. He promised himself that one way or the other he was going to gain fifteen pounds this week, a number that, added to the twenty five pounds he had gained over five years, would officially register him as a fat man.

He realized that even before he started this week he wasn’t exactly svelte anymore. His midsection had thickened and his belly had rounded, but he was still able to fake it, doing a reasonable imitation of a thin person, even though all his pants were beginning to get tight. But another fifteen pounds, all gained in rapid succession, now that and the extra inch or two to his belly would be hard to ignore!

Gazing down at his belly where the entire large pizza now resided he felt that his stomach was already growing, but he didn’t want to rush things. No, time to weigh and measure himself come morning; that was the drill and he was going to follow the regimen. Besides, he was just getting started. He had plenty of chowing down to do between now and tomorrow morning.

He sat down to watch his favorite movie “Le Grande Buffet” with a large bowl of corn chips smothered in cheese sauce, his own version of nachos, which he accompanied with another couple of beers. By the end of the movie he was feeling delightfully full and bloated, his belly rising up from his chest cavity. He began a slow rubbing which made his stomach gurgle. He chuckled. Ah yes, this was going to be good.

As evening approached he lit the barbeque and took the large rack of baby back ribs out of their marinade. While he was waiting for the coals to heat he made himself a small green salad, smothering it with half a bottle of creamy ranch dressing. “Gotta get my roughage,” he murmured as he spooned the last bit of dressing into his gullet.

By the time he threw the ribs on the barbeque he was feeling quite full, but then gave himself a little pep talk. No way was he going to stop now, not so soon. Maybe take a little breather, sure, but he was damned sure that he was going to finish off that rack of ribs come hell or high water, and at least half of the family sized serving of pasta alfredo to boot.

It didn’t hurt that the ribs and fettuccine were two of his favorite dishes. As he took the slab off the barbeque he got a good waft of the smoky sizzling smell of cooked pork and his mouth began to salivate. Full or not he tore into the ribs, sucking the pungent sauce from the bones and then downing large forkfuls of creamy pasta. It all tasted so yummy as he alternated between pasta and ribs and slugs of cold amber porter, barely registering the uncomfortable feeling emanating from his midsection as his already full stomach strained to accept more and more foodstuff.

At some point during the meal he had shed his pants and was wearing only a long tee shirt. As his gorging finally slowed and then came to an abrupt stop with a healthy belch he surveyed the damage; the slab of ribs were nothing but a pile of licked clean bones and there was only a small clump of pasta left in the pot. He looked down at his belly, which was arching high and hard, straining the confines of this tee shirt, which rode upwards on his gut. He leaned back in his chair and gave a contented sigh as he absently rubbed at his bloated belly.

After a time he rose from his chair and moved into the living room where he sat mindlessly watching college football, all the while the back of his mind was itching “you need to eat some more, don’t stop now”. At half-time he decided to scratch his itch with a pint of Cheery Garcia; the cool, soft ice cream going down smoothly and tasting simply marvelous.

He was going to stop about halfway through, but by that time the ice cream was beginning to melt and there were enough different taste targets that he kept going for “just one more spoonful”; catching a chocolate bite with this spoon, a cherry with the next, until halfway through the fourth quarter he was running his spoon around the sides and bottom of the container to get that last soupy spoonful.

His stomach, which had just started to feel, if not normal, then at least not enlarged to the point of pain as half-time approached, was now woefully distended again. He felt that it was stretched to a point further than it had ever been before and wondered if he was going to be able to eat much of anything come morning. He inwardly shrugged; it was of no consequence as tonight he was sure he had gotten off to a terrific start.

He kicked back the recliner and hand on his swollen belly, fell into a blissful dream where he was the proud possessor of an immense 65 inch belly that jutted out from his thin frame like a sail tacking with the wind. In the dream every woman he had ever known had come before him like he was some kind of medieval potentate, all fawning over his hugeness and begging to be allowed to rub his immenseness, as if it were some kind of religious icon, like Buddha.

Awaking from the dream in the predawn hours he managed to groggily move himself from his chair into the bedroom, his belly still feeling heavy and engorged as if he were indeed still in his Buddha like state.


It was mid morning when the bright high desert sun awoke him from his slumbers. Ah such pleasant dreams, he scarcely wanted to escape from them and back into reality. As he head cleared he gave some thought to that reality. He peeked under the blankets, half expecting to see the immense belly of his dream, but while the visage was disappointing in that regard he still surmised that he was still puffy and swollen.

He swung his legs out from the bed and rose to a standing position, feeling the heaviness in the pit of his stomach. He patted it fondly and headed for the bathroom. The scale showed a three pound gain. He should have been elated, but felt that he was being cheated.

Alright, it felt like more than that! He gazed down at his belly, which still arched out slightly from his ribcage. Turning sideways he looked at his profile in the mirror. It looked like he was thicker and that his gut was hanging lower than yesterday. Maybe it was just his imagination, but imaginings or no, it got his juices flowing again and so it was with great gusto that he donned a fresh tee shirt and strode to the kitchen to break his fast.

He dipped cereal in peanut butter while he rustled up a large batch of hot cakes, which he then, in a deft move, smothered with a warm hot fudge sauce. Yumm, heavenly, as the large stack sunk into his belly like a rock. Feeling blissfully bloated yet again he grabbed a snickers bar and headed in to check his e-mail, and do some web surfing. Awhile later he resurfaced to set his Tivo to record the afternoon NFL game and then detoured into the kitchen to make himself a milkshake and a pastrami sandwich. He spent the afternoon playing video games, pausing from time to time to retrace his steps into the kitchen for tasty morsels: pate and crackers, a payday, chips and salsa, a kit kat bar. Not being particular as it all tasted good and kept his belly feeling wonderfully stuffed.

At around five he made himself some hot wings and then placed a pre-made chicken cordon bleu into the already warm oven. He took the wings and some blue cheese dressing for dipping and sat down to watch some football. The oven timer dinged just as halftime was beginning so he put the game on hold and fried up some potatoes to go with the chicken and then heated up some veggies.

With that accomplished he removed the two stuffed chickens and arranged them on a plate, which he then carried back into the living room so he could watch the second half. The first chicken went down with no struggle, but the second one started putting up a fight about halfway through. He felt totally stuffed and his breath was coming in short bursts. He didn’t want to take a break, or even slow down but felt that if he didn’t take a breather he was going to burst.

He reclined in his chair and started rubbing his poor bloated belly, hoping to find more room and at the same time give himself some relief. After about fifteen minutes the pain in his gut subsided so he resumed playback of the football game, which gave him something to watch as he continued to rub.

By game’s end he was feeling much better so he popped the remainder of the chicken into the microwave to heat it back up, and then did a magic act, making the chicken disappear into his belly. He then waddled into the bathroom, glancing at the mirror as he passed by.

He felt huge and he looked… wow! His gut was jutting out from his torso like he had swallowed a basketball. As he slowly rotated in front of the mirror it seemed like his stomach had gotten round in all directions. He bent with some difficulty to retrieve the tape measure from the bottom drawer – what an idiot, he should always leave the damn thing somewhere more accessible – bending over like this sure wasn’t doing his stuffed belly any favors.

He drew the tape around his gut just at his navel. 40-1/2 inches!! He had done it! Broken the 40-inch mark. Oh baby, officially into the land of the fat now. No turning back. He realized that he had managed to put 9 inches on his waist over the last five years. He felt himself getting hard and chuckled that with his gut this huge he had to bend forward slightly to see his hard on. He moved to the shower where he actually sunk to his knees when the pleasure overtook him. He leaned a cheek against the smooth, cool tiles and swore again that this was only the beginning.

Later in the evening, still feeling a blissful glow, he made himself a large bowl of caramel corn, which he smothered in peanut butter and then sat down to watch Big Night, quenching his thirst with a couple of beers.

After the movie he made himself a bowl of chocolate pudding, which somehow managed to place between his knees, his swollen belly making for a tight fit, and using a large serving spoon, emptied the contents into his gullet.

He then rolled into the bedroom and sunk into the mattress, lying on his side, his belly jutting out. He fell into a sugar coated coma with his hand sliding off his swollen gut to rest on his still semi-hard cock; his dreams a wondrous concoction of fellatio and huge bellies, having to hold up his huge expanse so that the women could service him.
trying to make sense in a room full of dollars

Last edited by Observer; 12-14-2008 at 09:36 PM.
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Old 12-14-2008, 02:39 PM   #2
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Default over the edge part 2

ok, due to size limitations, I've had to break this up - hope you all can follow the bread crumbs...


He awoke to the alarm Monday morning, wanting nothing more than to fall back into the sensuous dream he was having involving two zaftig females who he guessed were plumped up versions of two of his former girlfriends. They were climbing all over his huge belly, kissing and nibbling as he laid back in pleasure.

Ah, but reality calls, he needed to bathe, dress, have breakfast and wander into his office to start receiving the inevitable phone calls. But before the mundane comes a bit of pleasure. He rose from the bed and made his way into the bathroom, stopping to check out his progress in the mirror.

His belly, while smaller than last night still seemed pleasantly huge and puffy. He said a little prayer as he wrapped the tape measure around his middle… without cheating he was still 40 inches exactly! He gave himself a silent high five and then moved to the scale, visions of a huge, floppy, saggy belly clouding his vision.

Stepping on the scale he was pleased to see another three pound increase.

OK, now we’re getting somewhere! Six pounds in two days. At this pace he’d make those fifteen pounds easily.

Dressing in what had been his loosest pair of slacks he walked to the kitchen and cooked up a three-egg omelet with a large side of bacon. While he cooked he munched on a Krispy Kreme and then dipped his index finger into the jar of peanut butter, sticking the finger into his mouth and sucking off the butter.

He wolfed down his breakfast, feeling the slacks tightening around his belly, and then quickly washed the pots and pans before grabbing another donut, and a bowl of salsa and chips and heading for his office.

The morning went swiftly and he soon became absorbed in his work, which didn’t prevent him from emptying the bowl of chips and then running back into the house for a refill. He was feeling pleasantly full when 12:30 came around and he had completed a set of documents that needed to be Fed-Ex’d by the end of the day. Deciding now was as good a time as any he jumped into his car and headed towards town.

After dropping off the pouch he determined that since it was closing in on 1:00 it was only right for him to be grabbing something for lunch, even though he wasn’t feeling hungry. He pulled in to a KFC and ordered a chicken pie, 3 piece meal with a double side of mac and cheese, some honey barbeque wings and a large Pepsi. The order taker then asked if he would like to partake of their 2 for 1 desert special on apple turnovers. Such sweet serendipity!

Arriving back at his office he made his way through the hefty lunch, munching away between taking phone calls. By mixing all the different entres he was able to keep his taste buds amused and put a serious dent in the meal. He began feeling truly full as he scraped the last bits of cheese sauce from the macaroni container. All that now remained was his desert. He wandered back into the house to microwave the turnovers back to hot, feeling almost uncomfortably full.

He absently rubbed at his distended belly as he waited for the timer to ding prodding himself to continue. He raised his shirt and looked down at his swollen tummy, somewhat taken aback that the top of his formerly loose slacks were now biting into his belly. “It’s actually happening” he murmured to himself, “I’m getting fat, I can feel it.”

With a renewed sense of will he returned to his office where, once seated in his executive chair, he loosened the stay on his slacks and partially undid the zipper. He bit into one of the turnovers and found that they were delicious. Three more bites and the first one was finished. He patted his belly and whispered “just one more”, which he then stuffed into his mouth without even tasting it. “There, mission accomplished”.

He leaned back in his chair and massaged his belly, feeling it stretched so hard and tight, like the skin of a drum.

As his fingers played he daydreamed that this taught, overstuffed stomach would soon swell even further, becoming soft and flabby as his body failed to metabolize his amount of intake. His inner vision saw a large floppy thing, swelling over his pelvis and sagging down over his thighs. He felt his manhood stiffen but then was broken from his reverie by a phone call. Still, he kept the vision in the back of his mind, filed under “someday”.

At the end of the day he shut his computer down, managed to re-zip his slacks and wandered back into the house. He still felt totally stuffed, but was determined to not stop now, not when things were going so well. He decided to take a soak in the hot tub and as he disrobed he caught his reflection in the mirror. It mesmerized him.

He stood there buck naked for the longest time, just staring at the protruding gut, hard, pink and glistening. He grabbed the tape measure and held his breath. His belly was pounding which made the measurement fluctuate between 41 and 41 – ¼. He tried to take a deep breath and stick out his belly but he was so stuffed that he could only get the tape out to 41-1/2. Still, it was no wonder that the waistband of his pants were so tight on him.

He turned slowly in the mirror, wanting to see his belly from all angles. He smiled as he turned, his breath coming quicker as he was filled with pride at the belly he was growing. As his pulse quickened his shaft began throbbing as well and it was with a good deal of amusement as he watched it grow. It stood out in proud defiance of the belly that was trying to eclipse it.

“Ha, my belly’s got a long way to go before that happens” he mused. Still he could imagine the day when his rock hard cock could not even begin to extend past his enormous stomach. He closed his eyes and visualized as he reached down to stroke his hardness until sweet release made his knees buckle.

Eventually his pulse returned to normal and he was able to quickly rinse himself and then submerge himself in the hot tub, blissfully drifting to visions of corpulence.

It was closing in on eight PM when he toweled off and decided to watch a couple of programs he had taped on his PVR. He had no little desire to eat and even less to cook, but then chastised himself. In a show of inner fortitude he grabbed a donut, there were only two left of the dozen he’d purchased less than three days ago, and called for the delivery of a large combo pizza. In the meantime he made himself a small salad, swimming in ranch dressing, and then popped open a beer.

He had just finished the first beer and opened a second when the pizza arrived, smelling of the heavenly concoction of meat, cheese and grease. He set the pizza on the end table next to his recliner and then slowly consumed slice after slice as he watched Deadwood.

There were three slices left when he began to feel truly uncomfortable. He’d already discarded his pants for his robe, but even that could not assuage the feeling of overindulgence. Maybe he shouldn’t have guzzled that third beer. Oh how bloated he felt. It was as if his midsection had become solid, unable to bend. He rose from his chair and waddled around the room, all the while rubbing his poor overmatched stomach. His breath was coming in short catches as his belly had swelled up to press against his diaphragm.

He began cradling his gut in one hand as he continued rubbing with the rest. Finally, after fifteen minutes of agony the pain subsided so he wandered back into the kitchen and scooped out a reasonable portion of ice-cream hoping that it would help sooth the acid in the belly.

He returned to his seat to watch the rest of the show and after downing the ice-cream he felt much better. He gazed over at the pizza box, which stared back at him incriminatingly. If he were truly committed to this course of action he owed it to himself to finish off those last three slices. Almost dreading his action, he raised the cover and gingerly broke off a slice.

He managed to get it down, although it tasted extra salty and felt like he was chewing cardboard. Taking his time he munched his way through another slice, not even feeling how hard and distended his tummy was anymore. He feared that he would chicken out on the last slice so he crammed the whole thing into his maw, forcing himself to chew and swallow as he imagined a palpable thud as the last slice hit his gut.

He felt uncomfortable, but not in pain, so he reclined his easy chair and watched another program before finally rising with a grunt and waddling off to bed, where he dreamed not at all.

When he awoke the next morning his mouth felt like he’d eaten chalk. He moved to the bathroom for a drink of water and it was only then that he caught a glimpse of his profile as he bent over the sink. His belly seemed to just hang there, suspended in space, jutting out from his ribcage and then folding in the middle as he straightened. He reached down to caress his stomach and, while still somewhat hard from the previous day’s excesses, he swore he felt an underlying softness there as well; the harbinger of future excess flab.

He measured himself and again he had returned to 40 inches even. Nonplussed he stepped over to the scale where he was pleased to see yet another three pound gain. Nine pounds in three days! He patted his protruding belly with affection, thanking it for being such a trouper.

After the last couple of days he wasn’t hungry in the slightest, and, as he figured he only had six pounds to go and four days to get there, he’d give his poor digestive system a rest today. No gorging, just a healthy three square meals and the occasional treat. Feeling slightly giddy he dressed, wearing only sweats pants and a large tee shirt, and went into the kitchen for a bowl of cereal, which he augmented with the last two remaining donuts.

As he put himself to bed that night he was feeling just about normal. The tight, overstuffed feeling had vanished so he figured that tomorrow he could start his assault anew. He had a plan, something he’d always wanted to try, and figured that tomorrow, Wednesday, was a great day to try it.


After a restful night’s sleep he awoke refreshed and full of carpe diem. He strode into the bathroom and took his measurement, which had dropped to 39-3/4. That just wouldn’t do! Knowing what was in store for the day he wasn’t worried, he’d be back over 40 in no time. He stepped on the scale and alas, he’d lost two pounds! His metabolism was messing with him again. So now he was only seven pounds heavier after four days. He’d have to get with the program big time.

He dressed quickly and drove the short distance into town so he could pick up another dozen donuts, two of which he scarfed down on the way home. Another one bit the dust as he made himself waffles and bacon for breakfast, which he smothered with maple syrup. He then made his way into his office where he planned on getting a great deal done so he could take a long and late lunch break.

At 12:45 he turned on his answering machine and headed into town. His plan was to have the lunch of all lunches, stopping off for a burger at every fast food place in town, and accompanying those burgers, he planned on having a milkshake at, in the least, every other establishment.

He started with Dairy Queen. OK, great shakes, and let’s see, how about a flamethrower burger; the one that comes with a chipotle sauce. Great start. Then it was across the street to Wendy’s where he decided to forego the shake (ice milk anyway) and simply ordered a regular burger. He finished that with the remainder of the milkshake, as his stomach began to rumble.

Next in line was Jack In The Box, which was about a mile into town. He ordered one of their malts and a sourdough bacon cheeseburger. The malt was super thick, but not as good as the DQ shake, although the burger was the best so far. By the time he finished it he was feeling a bit full, but that was not a deterrent as the excitement of performing this quest far outweighed any discomfort.

Pulling into Mickey D’s he simply ordered a Big Mac, which he washed down with the malt. Feeling quite full now he massaged his swollen belly and drove over to Carl’s Jr. for a western bacon burger and a shake. The shake was nothing to write home about, but the burger was terrific. Good sauce and the onion rings were a nice touch. Sadly, he was losing his sense of perspective at this point, not really tasting the food at all as he struggled to get it all down.

He gave himself a breather, rubbing his stomach all the while before tackling his last stop. After about 20 minutes in the Carl’s Jr. parking lot, he felt good enough to drive on over to Burger King, where he ordered an Angus Beef Western Burger. The flame-broiled taste was quite good and the bun was by far the best, for which he was grateful because it was becoming increasingly difficult to swallow the burger, and the shake was doing nothing to help. But he was determined to complete his mission, down to the last bite. The last couple of bites were tough sledding but with the goal line in sight he shoved the last bite into his mouth, chewed and swallowed, then washed it down with the last of the milkshake.

Mission accomplished! Six burgers and three shakes in one lunch, and boy did he feel it! It felt like there was a 20-pound weight in the pit of his stomach, but his belly – oh baby, it jutted out away from him like he had swallowed a beach ball. It was so hard, round, and substantial that he felt a sense of pride, knowing full well that the two pounds he had lost he had found again with a vengeance.

It was a contradictory impression that crowded his mind as he drove home from his luncheon indulgence. On one hand he imagined his outrageously swollen belly giving him ballast so he would float on the water like an overfilled inflatable boat, while on the other the vast amount of food that felt like a ton of stone in his belly made him feel that he would immediately sink to the bottom with no chance of ever climbing back to the surface.

He had felt stuffed before, but, and perhaps because this was what he was currently experiencing; he felt that this was the topper. He remembered that one Monty Python sequence where a glutton finally burst after eating a thin mint. He looked down at the throbbing belly that jutted out in front of him and vowed to stay away from mints for a while.

He lost himself in work for the rest of the afternoon, only occasionally aware of the dull pain in his gut which then led to a glance down at his protruding belly followed by an affectionate pat and rub. He felt a sense of wonder that not only was his belly sticking out obscenely far (as he sat with his pants unbuttoned) but that it was seemingly rising out of his ribcage as well. He grinned as he thought to himself ’39-3/4, goodbye and see ya later’.

By the end of the day he was feeling more or less normal, supposing that perhaps he was becoming accustomed to feeling so full and bloated. While he felt better he was surprised to see that the swelling of his stomach hadn’t seemed to diminish in the slightest. He shrugged and went into the kitchen, placing a “family sized” frozen lasagna in the oven. He knew he had to wait 45 minutes, so he settled into his easy chair with a pint of New York Super Fudge Chunk and put on a Tantric CD. He had jettisoned his pants some time ago so he sat listening wearing only his large tee shirt, which his burgeoning belly was beginning to fill, as he spooned mouthfuls of ice cream without a care in the world.

The timer dinged and he removed the lasagna from the oven, letting it cool while the CD finished. He then cut the 4 serving lasagna in half and placed it on his plate along with a side of green beans. He mindlessly watched some TV while he ate, savoring the gooey, melted cheese and the spicy, crumbled sausage. By the time he had completed the double sized portion he was feeling quite full again as the lasagna was fighting for space with the majority of a full pint of ice cream that he’d downed previously, along with the remnants of that gut busting lunch.

For some reason he felt that he was in control of his own destiny. That the uncomfortable feeling was not going to defeat him tonight. With a flourish he placed the rest of the lasagna on his plate, nuked it for a minute to reheat it, and then began pecking away at it, ignoring the groaning protests emanating from his overstuffed and overburdened stomach. Somewhere along the line he had lost all conscious thought as his world was reduced to the single act of forking the next bite of lasagna into his mouth, chewing, and then swallowing.

Finally he came back to his senses as his fork scraped the sides of his plate, searching for the last creamy morsel. He moved the plate to the end table beside him and looked down to see a bulbous protuberance straining the confines of his tee shirt. His breath was coming in short gasps. He tried to bend forward to bring his chair to an upright position and found that he couldn’t. It was as if an immovable, unbendable mass was centered in his torso, making it impossible to move. Now he knew he’d never ever been this stuffed before. There was a dull ache in his midsection as his belly continued to try and stretch, but there was no real pain so he decided to simply lie there in his chair and glory in his new hugeness.

He really wanted to rise and check his weight and measurements, but then steeled himself to have enough discipline to wait. Besides, it was so hard to move anyhow, and it wasn’t like the weight was going to magically disappear over the next couple of hours.

So he just sat there, drifting and imagining all kinds of lovely scenes, all starring his lovely, huge belly. Was this some insanity that was overtaking him, or had he simply given in to his inner calling; the voice that, for whatever reason, wished him to become obese. He was beyond caring or even thinking about the why’s and whatnot, simply wanting to be in the moment, feeling huge and satisfied, with the tinge of excitement that he was truly breaking the mold and breaking away from conventions. He was, at that moment, fat and loving it.

He eventually awoke from his bliss state and since it was after 10:00 he decided that it would be ok to move from his chair and prepare himself for bed. He gingerly bent forward, managed to pull his chair upright and then rose and waddled toward the bath, while his pulse started beating rapidly in anticipation of his weigh in.

Up five pounds from this morning! He was back on schedule, up 12 pounds in five days. But my god, how was he going to keep on? He needed another 3 pounds and the way he felt right now he doubted if he would ever want to eat again.

He peeled off his tee shirt and gazed down at his handiwork. His belly was still perched high and curving out nicely. He grabbed the tape and wound it around his thick gut all the way to 41-3/4. He still couldn’t take a deep breath so there was no way he could expand his stomach to 42, even if it were possible for his belly to grow any huger in a single day. Even so, a 2-3/4 inch increase was nothing to scoff at.

He knew that all his dress pants were going to be a tough fit and that until he bought some bigger slacks he was going to be relegated to sweats for the time being if he was to ever feel comfortable at all. It was with this thought in mind that he climbed into bed to dream of a special woman who adored every inch of him and showed him a love without bounds.


Thursday morning he awoke and took stock of himself. He felt full and not the least bit hungry, as would befit someone who had totally stuffed himself the day before. He was lying on his side as he threw back the covers to expose a flabby belly that jutted out from his frame only to seemingly puddle onto the sheets. He looked and felt immense.

Reaching a hand downward he ran his fingers across his swollen expanse, drinking in the softness and swearing that he was able to feel an extra fold of blubber. He cupped his hand under the pooling lard on the bed and gently lifted, watching as his flabby belly spilled out over his cupped hand. Hefting his girth, appreciating its heaviness he gave a contented sigh and then let his wobbly belly drop mesmerized by the jiggly aftershock.

As he lay on his side, arm reaching across and lovingly caressing his belly, his breast caught his eye. It too seemed to have grown and become flabby, the fleshy protuberance sagging against the bed sheet. He guided a finger upwards to caress the pliant flab and then pinch his aroused nipple. Closing his eyes he let the feelings overtake him, imagining that a lovely zaftig woman was touching him and admiring his soft, feminine form. His breathing began to quicken as his pulse raced and he felt his manhood come to life.

The beautiful woman of his dreams was caressing his flabby chest, purring that she just loved a man who wasn’t afraid to embrace both sides of his sexuality. She said that man breasts were a real turn on for her as she lowered her luscious lips down to lick and suckle his nipples, taking care to place her hand down into his soft gelatinous belly and slowly knead it. His breathing began to quicken and deepen as his manhood began to throb under the spell of this intense vision.

In a state of bliss he imagined that she then slid her hand down to his manhood, all the while continuing to tease his nipple. His pulse quickened again as his mind’s eye pictured her kneeling beside him, her own soft round belly gently rubbing against his own as her full breasts swayed with the motion of her arm as she continued to stroke him. Finally, he could stand no more so he jumped out of bed, his belly wobbling, and ran into the bathroom to finish his pleasure.

In the afterglow he gazed in the mirror. Still breathing hard he watched with glee as his belly folded and jiggled. He bent over slightly and perused his slightly hanging breasts, then shivered anew as his finger gently touched his still erect nipple. What a lovely way to begin the day.

Not wanting to ruin the glow he decided not to weigh or measure himself this morning. No, better to just press on and wait and see what tomorrow brings, hoping that the anticipation would further his desire to consume.

After his little exertion he felt that once again he could resume his course. He still felt bloated but didn’t mind, especially after what he had just experienced, so he bounced into the kitchen and whipped up some bacon, sausage and a three-egg cheese omelet.

The ample meal slid down his gullet with no problem so he smiled, took a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips and waddled into his office, where he found it difficult to concentrate, his mind drifting off into the land of corpulent bellies, both his and hers. For some reason he kept seeing the face of his dream girl as well as her heavenly curvaceous body. He knew it from somewhere, but couldn’t place it. Then he realized that it was his first real girl friend, way back when he was in junior high school. How odd to suddenly start fantasizing about her, when he had all but forgotten about her with the passage of years.

They had dated, if you call what was allowed by both sets of parents at such a tender age dating, for close to two years. He recalled that she seemed so erotic to him, for as a Latina, her upbringing and point of view were vastly different from his own white bread world. She had developed early, looking quite womanly by the time they entered high school, with a slight curve to her hip and a nicely formed, full chest. He felt he was the envy of all the other boys, not understanding that, although she looked like a goddess, there was a stigma attached to her race, which in the eyes of many soured the entire package.

He reflected back to her creamy, light chocolate skin, her long silky dark hair and luscious lips. She seemed perfect to him, though he recalled that she was always complaining that she needed to drop 15 pounds. He couldn’t see it, thinking that she was a voluptuous knockout.

As he gazed at her enigmatic smile he tried to recall what had broken them up. Just the normal adolescent high school growing up traumas he supposed; reasoning that it was way too early in life to even begin to think about forever and ever. The smile continued to stare back at him, the face a bit fuller, but the eyes equally as sparkling and piercing as they had ever been. His mind finally broke away and began to follow a track down the rest of her body. Her full breasts even larger now, bulbous and abundant, her large aureole surrounding firm and erect nipples. Her belly had climbed up to just under those lovely breasts, supporting them from underneath as it arched gently outward from her rib cage.

Her belly button, always deep, was now a cavern with deep creases on either side to mark the entrance. Her tummy pooched out from below her belly button and hung slightly, folding over her mons. Her hips were wide and flared, like the wheel wells of an exotic racecar, melting down into thick shapely thighs. He guessed her to carrying 165-170 pounds on her 5’1” frame, and had to admit that every pound was placed perfectly.

He reflected on her perfection as he stuffed chips into his mouth, knowing full well that his mind was reflecting back what appeared to be his ideal of beauty. Odd that this was where his mind had taken him, back to his puppy love after all these years (albeit with an added 40 pounds). And it was so far from where he had ended up.

His wife, who he loved and admired, though never really lusted after, was not of the same mold, that was for sure. At 5’5” and 115 on a good day, she was that classically waspish skinny girl, who even in her forties could easily slide into her wedding gown. Over time he had grown tired of her boniness, hoping for a little softness to make an appearance, but knew that it surely wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon.

He mused that perhaps this was part of what was driving him towards developing his own belly. Admitting that while it may be a factor, he knew that there was certainly much more to it than that. Still, that 170-pound bundle of soft curves haunted him, making it almost impossible to get any work done.

Shortly after noon he made his way back into the kitchen where he downed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while cooking up a meal sized mac and cheese (using half and half instead of milk). When the noodles were ready he grated some extra cheese on the bowl and returned to his office, bowl in one hand and an “energy” shake in the other.

As he imbibed he again saw the vision of his old girlfriend and suddenly had an epiphany: he had indeed seen her before. He hadn’t remembered at first, but suddenly it hit him that she had indeed visited his dreams on several occasions; it was just that those dreams, like most, faded in the dawn’s light.

So then why wasn’t she fading now? It was mid-day and he could still close his eyes and see every ravishing inch of her. He felt possessed by her, as if she was controlling his thoughts and actions; but how silly, she was, after all, just his imagination working overtime, and if he was obsessing, it was nothing more than his brain looping on the concept of a fat girl who wanted him to be fat as well. Perfectly natural as the great majority of his focus these last 5 days had been about eating and getting fat. Still, as he licked the sides of his macaroni bowl, he wondered if she would visit him again tonight.

trying to make sense in a room full of dollars

Last edited by Observer; 12-14-2008 at 09:19 PM.
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Old 12-14-2008, 03:02 PM   #3
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Default Part 3


As the afternoon progressed he was able to put his little, well not really so little now was she… apparition out of his mind and get some work done, stopping only long enough for another high calorie energy shake and some salsa and tortilla chips, the latter giving him a great idea of what to have for dinner – Mexican.

In mid afternoon he was interrupted by a call from the Mrs. Seemed she was chiming in to say that all was well, although with all the get togethers and parties she admitted to “eating like a horse”.

“You won't belueve it” she just about screamed, pumping up the drama, “I bet I’ve gained five pounds! You probably won’t even recognize me when I get off the plane.”

He looked down at his swollen gut and wondered who wouldn’t recognize whom. Heck, he’d still be looking for the stick that vanished when she turned sideways, it wouldn’t be hard.

She went on for a spell about all the friends she had visited and what so and so was doing, blah, blah. All of which he kind of half listened to while every so often adding an “uh huh” in the appropriate places. Finally she rang off, ending with a cheery “see you on Saturday, that is if the plane can lift off with all the extra weight I’m carrying”, all like it was a great lark. If she had gained a pound it would be a miracle, and he knew it would surely vanish the day after she returned home.


After work he showered and went through his wardrobe, jettisoning all of his slacks which were simply too tight around his waistline, and finally settling on a pair of sweats that didn’t look too trailer trashy. Over it he wore a large Coogie sweater, which still failed to hide the added curvature of his midsection.

“Forty plus inches”, he mused as his beefy reflection stared back at him, “there’s no way you can’t be considered fat.”

With that sentiment firmly embedded in his mind he slathered gobs of peanut butter on a piece of bread, wolfed it down and then headed off for Rosa’s Cantina, purveyors of the finest tamales on the west coast.

He ordered a large strawberry margarita and then perused the menu, finally deciding on a combo platter of a cheese enchilada, beef taco and chicken tamale, served of course with the requisite rice and beans, plus salad and abondigas soup.

When his piping hot platter arrived, along with a basket of warm tortillas, a flash of recollection hit him; weren’t hot buttered tortillas Clarita’s favorite dish? To his recollection she was always saying that they were her downfall, as they were her comfort food and unfortunately very fattening.

Hmmm, fattening, he mused as he melted a cube of butter into the fold of a tortilla and then took a bite, the melted butter oozing out and making a greasy path down his chin, which he was able to lick off before it traversed too far. He took another bite and then another, enjoying the taste and feeling a sense of connectivity to a girl he had known 25 years ago.

He reveled in that feeling as he worked his way through his meal, disregarding the uncomfortable tightness in his belly. He paused for a moment, leaning back and petting his swollen tummy, which finally gurgled as if telling him that it had just found more room. He imagined that it was growing another inch on the spot, and gazing down was now sure of it.

He managed to somehow clean his plate and then, feeling daring ordered a cheesecake for desert, wondering all the while where he was going to put it. Once again he persevered and triumphed and as he rose from the table with a groan, feeling like he had a 20-pound bowling ball in his stomach, he reasoned that he had represented himself as a hungry fat man in good fashion. As he approached the front door the plump receptionist smiled his way so he gave his protruding gut a pat as he gave her a return smile and a wink. Wow, it felt good to be so stuffed and so fat, with no-one to condemn him for his rotund condition.

He arrived home and plopped himself down into his easy chair to watch a film, accompanied by a pint of ice cream, which he mindlessly swallowed, not really even feeling how stuffed he still was. At the movie’s completion he clicked off the television, kicked the recliner into an upright position and struggled to his feet. When he was vertical he felt gravity take its toll, pulling at the swollen gut that jutted out from his middle.

Oof, he felt heavy and lethargic and was quite sure that he was leaning backwards just to keep his center of balance. Cupping his hands under his round middle he staggered towards the bathroom where he disrobed and brushed his teeth. Instead of feeling amped up he just felt thick and woozy with a tremendous weight in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t even care to glance at the puffy, round body that was reflected back at him from the bathroom mirror, as if somehow it just didn’t matter how fat he was getting. So he shuffled off to bed, and was sleeping soundly by the time his head hit the pillow.


The sun in his eyes awakened him, his brain still feeling fuzzy as he recollected the odd sequence of, if not dreams, then scenes; like snapshots or short videos spliced together that his brain had chosen to play in his mind the night before.

Indeed Clarita had once again made an appearance, as it seemed she was suddenly becoming the featured star of his dreams. He closed his eyes and tried to remember all his sub-conscious had shown him, and in the sequence that it had occurred. First there was a scene in which he couldn’t see himself, only Clarita who was in some kind of dramatic lighting that spot lit her face while leaving the rest of her in darkness.

She was the vision that he had had from the night before, not 13 but a mature woman with just a hint of extra flesh around her high cheekbones. Her eyes, so dark and deep just stared in his direction, piercing his soul while her dark painted lips parted slightly as it seemed she was murmuring something that was just beyond the scope of his hearing.

The vision went on seemingly forever, until finally fading, to be replaced by on in which Clarita was walking down a model’s runway, which would have been normal except that she was totally nude. Her body was the 170 pound model that his mind had invented the night before and as he recalled her stunning abundant beauty as she sashayed and pirouetted on the runway, her breasts and belly jiggling with every movement and her butt cheeks bouncing like a set of pistons, he felt his nether regions stir.

My word, her skin was so soft and creamy looking, as if her body was molded out of whipped cream. Hmm, and I bet just as good to eat too. He reveled in this scene for a while, but then remembered that indeed, there were more delights that his libido had prepared for him last night.

If he had it right, the next scene, or vision as the case may be, showed Clarita now fully clothed, wearing a cotton tee shirt with a plunging neckline. It was very short and also very tight causing her marvelous breasts to nearly overflow their confines as well as accent the band of flesh that rode both over and under the sides of her bra. She was also wearing a pair of tight low cut jeans that pushed a nice roll of fat over the top like an inner tube; said roll in plain sight because of the shortness of the shirt.

She was seated at a breakfast bar on a bar stool in front of a plate piled high with tortillas. She methodically slathered each one from a large tub of butter and rolled her eyes with ecstasy as she bit into each tortilla, letting the butter roll down her chubby cheeks all the way down between her immense cleavage. As she bent forward to butter another tortilla her belly folded over her jeans and another roll formed at her belly button. He closed his eyes and concentrated on this vision as his breathing quickened and his member began to throb.

He couldn’t believe that this was happening. Up until now he had only gotten exited about visions of his own weight gain, and yet here were scenes of a plump Clarita that were turning him on completely! He opened his eyes and gazed past his own swollen belly to where his cock was standing at attention. He’d have to take care of this somehow, either by putting his mind elsewhere, or spanking the monkey. Of course, given that he was alone and in no great hurry to get to his office, he chose the more pleasurable alternative.

The experience was wonderful as all he had to do was close his eyes and replay last night’s scenes to bring him to full arousal.

Afterwards he showered and as he toweled off watched with glee the way his own belly jiggled. He felt as if an extra inch of fat had descended and covered his entire body during the night. He debated weighing himself but then couldn’t resist. The needle climbed and then finally settled; informing him that he had gained yet another pound, giving him a 13 pound increase in 6 days.

He was remotely disappointed, as he knew that he’d have to push to gain another 2 pounds by tomorrow. Still, there was a silver lining; his belly was a squishy, round 41-3/4 and as it was morning he wasn’t even stuffed. In fact, he could inhale and swell his gut out to 42-1/2 with ease. His rotund belly had increased 2 inches in less than a week! He gave the billowing expanse a little love pat, and floated back to dress, imagining that ponderous 65 inch wonder that was waiting for him sometime in the not all that distant future.

Thinking of such an expanse brought his mind back to the rest of his dream visions. There was a lovely scene in which both he and Clarita shared the limelight. In it she seemed a little heavier, her breasts even larger, hanging over a protruding expanse of jelly. He guessed that this latest vision was 15-20 pounds heavier than the last as the long cotton dress she was wearing hugged every curve and bulge with affection. Her belly was thick and seemed longer, as if, as it grew, it went not only higher, but hung lower as well, not to mention the now much larger inner tube that wrapped around her middle from the top of her pelvis.

She was standing at a buffet table, loaded with an amazing array of goodies. Across from her was a rotund, big-bellied man with sagging breasts whom he now realized to be himself, only with another 30-40 pounds added on for good measure. The two of them smiled at each other, each keeping intent eye contact as took turns placing tasty, fattening morsels in each other’s mouths. As this went on he could actually see both their bodies swell, their bellies stretching and widening out inch by inch.

Finally the scene abruptly cut and he was enveloped in darkness. A door slowly opened and from a dull backlight he could see a shape come through the door. The door had to open further to allow the form to get through and in the increased light he realized that it was Clarita. She stood before him with the light behind her creating a luminescence like a glowing halo. She seemed to be nearly as wide as she was tall, which was about all he could tell in the odd light.

Closing the door behind her the room again fell into darkness. He ached to see her, and finally his mind allowed for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room as she approached him, her entire body seeming to jiggle as she walked. She stood before him and reached up to run her fingers through her hair, her thick arms swaying with the effort and her heaving breasts following suit, sliding sideways off their perch atop her immense belly that hung down over her thick, beefy thighs. She climbed onto the bed, as the springs squeaked in protest, and as she crawled towards him on her hands and knees her breasts swayed like an insane pendulum as he belly dragged on the sheets.

He lay propped on pillows awaiting the end of her sojourn, his own body grown beyond his wildest dreams. His breasts amazingly almost as large as hers as they jutted out and down to rest on the rising swell of an expanse that had to be over 3 feet thick. The immensity sagged out in a puddle of fat to either side of his stocky legs that seemed tiny in comparison. He gazed downwards and while feeling that he was indeed aroused by the vision of Clarita and her swaying breasts and sagging belly moving towards him, his belly had grown to such great dimensions that he could no longer see his hardness.

Clarita finally made it to the top of the bed where she reached upwards, giving him the heavenly view of her full hugeness, and grabbed some form of apparatus that had two tubes protruding from the center of the device. She checked the apparatus for a moment, and then, seemingly satisfied, placed one of the tubes into her mouth and the other into his. She then lay down beside him, their fat seeming to commingle, and as both sucked a ambrosial concoction she reached over and began to kneed his breasts. He reciprocated in kind, bringing them both to a heightened state of arousal, the shivers of pleasure that their fingers invoked amplified by the heavenly nectar they were imbibing.

The nectar was filling their bellies, giving them yet another wonderful sensation and as each became more active with their hands and fingers, moving slowly downward over each one’s huge belly, they nestled closer and maneuvered in such a way that each could easily access the other’s sex. Hands and fingers probing and rubbing as they continued to suck at the tubes, they both finally gave a great shudder of joy and collapsed into each other’s arms in a state of pure bliss.


When he opened his eyes from this recollection he was all sweaty and his member had once again returned to full attention. What, he wondeered, was going on? It seemed like he had become oversexed overnight. He’d better get a grip – no, not that kind! And yet why not?

He closed his eyes and saw the 300 pound vision of Clarita from his last dream, laying next to his 500 pound tub of blubber and while somewhere in the back of his mind knew that he had surely crossed all the way over into the land of the perverse, he didn’t care, the possibility of such a reality so strong and exciting that every nerve ending was on fire.

Sated yet again, yet feeling refreshed and oh so alive, he dressed in his sweats and suddenly ravenous, made his way to the kitchen. He made himself three pieces of French Toast and drowned them in a sea of powdered sugar and maple syrup. Feeling that the toast should sustain him for the time being he wandered into his office with a Snickers bar in one hand and an energy shake in the other.

As he got down to business his mind couldn’t help but reflect back to the last scene of the dream. It was incredible; his sub-conscious had taken him well past where his conscious mind had dared to go. 500 plus pounds, did he really want to become that obese? He pondered; if he was having such a great time with this little foray into fat, then what was to really stop him besides society’s conventions, which he had never bought in to in the first place.

Still, at 500 pounds his mobility would surely be limited and there would probably be some residual health risks involved. But still, just the thought of all that lard incasing his body: his huge belly and those almost womanly breasts. Well, que sera sera. He didn’t think he’d ever get anywhere near that huge, but thought that he wasn’t going to make a concerted effort to prevent it from happening.

And what about Clarita? Sure, he thought she was incredibly sexy carrying 170 pounds, which, by current standards was indeed fat, but surely not considered morbidly obese. There were a lot of those type of girls around, heavy but not stepping over the line to really, really fat. It was almost like those ultra chubby girls were accepted by society, and didn’t have to suffer the ostracism of the truly obese. So, he was certainly ok with 170, but then realized that the 300 pound version had turned him on as well. The thick, flabby arms, her immense breasts, that huge saggy belly and her wide hips and thick thighs; he had had no idea that such a package could look so sexy. Beauty must indeed come in all shapes and sizes.

Of course it was all just a fantasy as he was married to a twig that would never allow herself to approach even the first stage, let alone the final product. And who was he fooling? There was no chance at all that she would put up with him even getting much fatter than he already was, let alone more than doubling his current weight.

As his mind pondered all this he wondered what was going to happen tomorrow when Paula, his wife, saw him carrying 15 pounds that weren’t there a week ago. She had been silent concerning his gradual gain to this point, but this new increase was kin to throwing it in her face. She’d have to comment, or lay down an edict that she was putting him on a diet. Again, he shrugged, not totally married to the idea of becoming truly obese, although this past week had been thrilling and he certainly felt ultra alive and super sexed.

While he pondered all this he had been stuffing his face with peanut M&M’s and was now brought out of his reverie by the sad realization that the one pound bag he had opened just yesterday was now empty. No problem, and a good thing too as he didn’t want to leave any truly incriminating evidence lying around.

He wandered back into the house to peruse the pantry. Not much left. He grabbed a bag of bar-b-que chips, put a hungry man lasagna in the oven and went back to work.

When the timer chimed he broke from work and re-entered the kitchen, his nose assailed by the wonderful smell of cooking cheese. As he sat down to eat it occurred to him that since breakfast he had been stuffing his face almost constantly, and yet he felt no more full or uncomfortable than he had at the very beginning of the week.

He assumed that through all his pigging out his stomach had grown to the point that he was able to consume much more than he previously had thought possible. Good thing too, as he was determined to not only finish off this “family sized” helping of lasagna, but make a concerted effort to stuff himself to the point that those last two pounds would be sitting on his frame come morning.

As he chewed, the last dream scene came back to him and he realized that there was yet another wrinkle that had come seemingly from out of the blue. What the heck was that tube thing all about? He had read somewhere, probably on the net, that there was a kind of cult called “feeders” who enjoyed hooking their companions up to contraptions that would, in effect, force feed them. He had seen cartoon to this effect, and recalled that there was even a main stream cartoon from, what was it, the 50’s, where cute little cartoon pigs were tied to a chair in front of a conveyor belt which supplied a continual supply of confections.

So he knew what this was about, but had never even given it a second thought until the dream. He realized that it wasn’t a dominance/submission type of thing, as in the dream both he and Clarita were hooked up to the tubes. Perhaps it was his mind’s way of telling him that they had both become obese together, by mutual decision, and were sharing this odd journey. In any case, he reasoned that although he wasn’t actually force feeding himself, what he had done this last week was, if nothing more, blurring the lines.

As he scraped the bottom of the large container he finally felt truly full. He sat back and rubbed his belly and then gave a hearty belch, suddenly feeling much better.


The rest of the afternoon passed without much effect, and by five o-clock he was actually starting to feel, if not exactly hungry, then at least normal enough to contemplate a nice, big dinner. He started out with a package of buffalo wings, which he dipped into gobs of blue cheese dressing. The wings tied him over while he barbecued a hefty porterhouse, which he smothered with salsa. On the side he had tater-tots and corn on the cob, along with green beans for a veggie.

The meal was filling but he realized that there were two energy shakes and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s left in the larder that he was going to have to finish before morning. He decided to make a milk shake concoction out of both ingredients which he slowly sipped as he played a video game.

By eleven o’clock he was beginning to feel tired, and while still feeling full decided to give it one last assault towards those fifteen pounds so he made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and then, instead of making yet a second one began to simply scoop the peanut butter out of the jar with two fingers, a process that he repeated at least ten times, putting a severe dent in the jar and giving him a dry mouth, which he wet by downing a half pint of heavy cream.

He was really stuffed now and figured that his little desert extravaganza of cream and peanut butter had to be several thousand calories minimum. He wondered if those calories would turn to fat overnight, or if it would take a day or two for him body to assimilate it all. No matter; he had given his quest his best shot, and he was going to leave it until tomorrow for the tale of the tape to tell him whether or not he was successful.

He certainly hoped so as he reflected that today alone he had eaten 3 pieces of French Toast, two snickers bars, 3 energy shakes, half a pound of M&M’s, a bag of potato chips, a family sized lasagna, a package of 20 buffalo wings, a 20 oz steak, corn, tater-tots, a pint of ice-cream, a peanut butter sandwich, about another third of a jar of straight peanut butter, and a half pint of heavy cream.

He rolled himself into bed, feeling as if his stomach was two feet thick, and soon fell into a deep slumber.

When he awoke he realized that he had received a repeat performance of the dream sequence from the night before. Clarita in all her versions and then the grand finale of the two immense versions of the two of them giving each other pleasure while sucking on tubes filled with sweet high calorie liquid. As he replayed the dream he was startled by the beginning in which all he could see was Clarita’s beautiful face while she spoke something he knew to be akin to an incantation, even though he couldn’t hear the words.

It was then that he remembered that she had always said that she was a witch, something that they frequently joked about, and yet something that the oft times took very seriously; explaining to him the difference between Wicca and the conventional view of witchery with the broom sticks and all.

He wasn’t surprised that he now remembered that little tidbit of info, no more than he found it weird that she, who he hadn’t seen or even given much more than a second thought to in over 20 years, would be the star of his nocturnal musings. Still, he wondered why his mind had decided to start the dream sequence with Clarita performing an incantation – especially odd since he hadn’t remembered that she claimed to be a witch until just now.

In any case, he had more important things on his mind this morning; i.e. the grand weigh-in. He swung his legs out and then down to the floor, watching as his belly jiggled with the movement. He then got to his feet and felt his belly succumb to gravity, feeling stretched and heavy as it pooched outwards almost obscuring his view of his feet.

He felt a moment’s rush looking down at his swollen flabby belly, knowing in his soul that he had not only accomplished his mission and gained the required fifteen pounds, but that it had indeed changed his body as he had hoped it would. There was no way he could get away with thinking that he wasn’t a fat man now. Just take a look at his soft puffy belly jutting out so magnificently and anyone would have to agree.

So he waddled into the bathroom and gave his new and improved body a good once over in the mirror. Yep, the belly was now his most prominent feature. He gave himself an inner high five and then rubbing the side of his gut stepped on the scale. He had to bend over slightly in order to see past his belly as the needle finally came to rest… and showed him that he had not only hit his mark, but shot past it by another pound. 16 pounds in 7 days, yes! He did a little jig and then reached for the tape measure, which he wrapped around his rotund waist to the tune of 42-1/4 inches, a three inch increase. He tried to puff his stomach out and was able to add another ¾ inch, so if he really wanted to look fat he could show the world a 43-inch wide waist. Not bad for someone whose body type looked normal at 31 inches. Now he was 36% bigger around.

He showered and imagined that 43 inches ballooning up to 65 and beyond; a vision that got him breathing hard and getting his member’s attention. He toweled off and then came the realization that today he was going to have to find something to wear. The sweats that had become his uniform this past week would just not do for such a momentous occasion as his grand coming out party. He rummaged around for a spell and then decided on a nice dress shirt.

He put his arms through the sleeves and then started buttoning from the top down, amazed that the shirt felt tight around his chest. Of course this was only a precursor to how tight the shirt got as he fumbled with the buttons around his corpulent belly. He was amazed that he was able to even get it buttoned up, and as he looked in the mirror he was pleased to see that the shirt was beginning to bunch up around his midsection where there was the slightest gap between the sides of the material. Oh baby, his belly had outgrown his shirt. Wow.

He debated wearing the shirt anyway, but then finally decided that with the gap and all it was too obvious. So he settled on a dress sweater, which still seemed a bit snug around the old middle. And this was before he tried to struggle into his slacks. He had to suck in his belly to get the zipper to co-operate and then suck in even further to get the top fastened. He feared breathing but knew he finally had to let the air, and his belly out. The clasp held so he gingerly moved about, trying to reposition his flab.

The net result was a nice ring of blubber around the top of his slacks that, as he leaned forward threatened to spill out over the waistband. The tightness of the slacks around his tummy was pushing the rest of his gut upwards giving him the appearance of even more girth around his belly, which the sweater couldn’t even begin to hide. He took stock of himself in the mirror and was pleased. He looked like what he figured he now was: a fat man.

trying to make sense in a room full of dollars

Last edited by Observer; 12-14-2008 at 09:27 PM.
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Old 12-14-2008, 03:03 PM   #4
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Default Part 4


On the way to the airport he stopped for gas and a quick visit to the mini mart where he snatched a couple of Krispy Kremes and a chocolate milk chug, figuring that a growing boy had to eat. After finding a parking spot in the airport garage he deposited the empty wrappers in a trash receptacle and walked towards the baggage claim where he had prearranged to meet Paula.

He took his position by the proper carousel, Southwest flight 1767 out of Dallas, which was where Paula had to change planes from the east coast, and began gazing up the concourse. After several minutes he was distracted by an angry exchange taking place at one of the rental car counters. It seemed that some guy’s reservation had been misplaced and therefore his luxury vehicle of choice was not available.

The poor clerk tried to explain to the gentleman that, while he couldn’t get the Mercedes, there was a Jaguar or a BMW available, and that he was authorized to even give the man a discounted rate. But the man was being childish, throwing a temper tantrum because he wanted his Mercedes. A wicked exchange followed wherein the man wanted satisfaction and the manager. The clerk informed him that the manager was unavailable and that there was nothing more he could do – he couldn’t make a Mercedes materialize out of thin air.

The man got even more angry and threatened to take his business elsewhere, to which the clerk replied that this was certainly within his rights (and probably inwardly hoping that the jerk would do just that). Finally the clerk diffused the situation by offering the jerk triple points on his credit card.

The floorshow being over, he returned his attention to the concourse just in time to realize that Paula was already approaching. She had her carry-on over her shoulder and was pumping French fries into her mouth from a super sized container, which was odd because Paula never, ever ate fast food, especially anything fried and fattening.

As she approached she was having a rather animated conversation with someone eklse, and as he looked closer his heart stopped. It was impossible but the person holding up the other end of the conversation was Clarita. It couldn’t be, but it had to be her; and the oddity was that it was Clarita just as his mind had pictured her – 170 pounds of softness and sexy curves. He was dumbstruck so therefore failed to respond when Paula waved a French fry at him.

“See, I told you that you wouldn’t recognize me with all the weight I put on” she joked when she got within earshot.

Broken from his stupor he blushed and stammered something about being distracted by thinking that he saw Barry Bonds further up the concourse. Paula either bought it or didn’t care. She munched another fry, complaining that the airlines just didn’t feed you anymore. All she had eaten since sunrise had been the crummy stale pretzels that they give you on the plane; although she admitted that she did have time to grab a Taco Bell stuffed burrito between flights.

She then recovered her manners and introduced him to “Claire”, a forensic pathologist who had just had her first novel published.

“A pleasure to meet you” he said as he looked at her for a sign of recognition.

She smiled at him and somehow he just knew that she had recognized him. So what was he to do? Acknowledge that long ago and far, far away they had been an item, or just play it cool, as it was all water way under the bridge. He decided to let her take the lead, which she did by looking him squarely in the eye and giving an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

Paula, oblivious to the exchange continued to babble between fries, “So Claire, I’m so forgetful, what did you say the name of the book was again? We’ll just have to get it. We just love murder mysteries.”

“The Path of Hunger” she replied to Paula as she continued to look at him, her dark eyes piercing his soul.

“Speaking of which, I’m starving” Paula announced cheerfully. “ I should have gotten a burger with these fries. I sure hope you’re going to take me to lunch on our way home; maybe that barbecue place. I’ve heard that their cornbread and pulled pork are to die for.”

Clarita glanced over his shoulder and waved, explaining that her chauffeur was holding up a name card and looking for her, so she’d better go and make an introduction before he left her high and dry.

At this point bags started pouring out of the bowels of the airport, to make their endless circles around the carrousel, luggage in search of owners. Clarita took his hand, sending electrical shivers up his arm. “A pleasure to meet you, I’ve got a book signing at B&N on Tuesday and I sure hope to see you there. It’s 6-9. Maybe if you come towards the end we can get together for a bite afterwards, what do you think?”

Paula beamed and said that they’d be delighted.

“Any excuse to get out for a meal works for me” she exclaimed.

As Clarita walked off towards her driver, her fabulous ass and delicious wide hips an almost irresistible Siren’s song, he swore that he must be dreaming. This entire scene was so surreal; not only to meet Clarita again after all these years, but also to see her exactly as his dream had portrayed her. What were the odds that the 13 year old girl he had known would now perfectly fit the chubby profile his mind had seemingly made up for her? But that was only the beginning. What the heck was up with Paula?

He glanced her way as she was intently watching the carrousel, stuffing her face with the last of the fries. He noticed that her skirt seemed very tight on her, the waistband causing a bit of tummy to arch out underneath; a tummy that hadn’t been there a week ago.

She must have felt him staring so she turned and smiled, and then looked down into the fry box. “Oh dear, I seem to have eaten them all. I’m sorry honey; I should have offered you some. I bet you’re hungry.”

She was looking right at him, seemingly oblivious to the 16 pounds and 3 inches of flab he had acquired over the past week. He took a deep breath, expanding his gut to its full 43 inches and said “yeah, I could go for a bite; though I haven’t been missing any meals while you were gone.”

He patted his belly for emphasis.

“Me neither” Paula chimed in. “It seemed like there were parties every night I was away, and you know me, always a sucker for hors d oeuvres.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Paula was not a sucker for anything, and at most parties refused to eat at all, lest it cause as much as a one ounce gain. Yet here she was, sucking down fries, requesting a high caloric lunch and claiming to have a soft spot for finger foods.

He was broken from his musings by Clarita, who approached, driver with bags in tow.

“I do so hope to see the two of you on Tuesday” she said, looking straight at him and not at Paula. “So silly of me, I forgot to give you my business card” she laughed, “I guess I’m still new to this successful writer gig. You will come won’t you?”

Nodding was about all he could do. That and watch Clarita’s fabulous ass sway to and fro as she departed. As Paula bent over to retrieve her luggage, giving him an even better view of the tummy that was forming on what used to be a rail thin frame, he glanced at the business card.

Deep red letters on a gray background gave her name and e-mail address, which he expected. Above the name and address there was the title of the book in Italics with a sentence underneath that made his heart pound. The title: The Path of Hunger; and underneath seemingly meant just for him were the words “you have been chosen.”

He placed the card into his wallet as Paula put her arm around his pillowy middle and purred, “let’s go eat.”
trying to make sense in a room full of dollars

Last edited by Observer; 12-14-2008 at 09:33 PM.
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Old 12-15-2008, 03:21 AM   #5
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lucifercage has said some nice things

this story is amazing you are talented with words. great imagery
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Old 12-15-2008, 11:50 AM   #6
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Wow.....amazing. I'm dying waiting for what happens next! Fantastic job of describing the feelings of the main character.
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Old 12-15-2008, 06:15 PM   #7
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lucifercage: thanks for the kind response. I'm glad you liked the story (parts of which are true, given creative license).

Edx - I'm glad it captivated you. As for what's next - that's for your imagination.
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Old 12-16-2008, 09:30 AM   #8
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fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!fat hiker has a ton of rep. Literally. As in over 2000!

A great story - thanks!
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Old 12-23-2008, 08:56 AM   #9
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Wow...That was great! That's as close to a biography as I've ever read! Very accurate and very well told! Exquisite work, thank you!
I was hoping, as I'm sure our hero was, to see Paula's startled reaction to his new size. Instead, I'll be happy to follow along to wherever Clarita leads them. Thanks again.
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Old 12-26-2008, 05:28 PM   #10
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Originally Posted by Rebel View Post
Wow...That was great! That's as close to a biography as I've ever read! Very accurate and very well told! Exquisite work, thank you!
I was hoping, as I'm sure our hero was, to see Paula's startled reaction to his new size. Instead, I'll be happy to follow along to wherever Clarita leads them. Thanks again.

I'm so glad you enjoyed the story and found it accurate - I'm guessing you've been down that road as well; good to know I'm not alone
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Old 10-09-2012, 05:42 AM   #11
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This is wonderfully seductive and erotic. Thanks, Max, for all the pleasures you give to readers like me.
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Old 10-15-2012, 09:33 AM   #12
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and thank you for reading and giving such a wonderful comment. I'm so glad you enjoy my scribbles.
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