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Old 08-03-2012, 02:46 PM   #51
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Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.Tad has ascended what used to be the highest level.

Originally Posted by NKT View Post
Tad - thank you. I am still hoping that Crows & Butterflies gets updated sometime! How about it? That is one of my favorites.
Thanks for the push--a new chapter has finally gone up (the story has moved out of the new additions now, so you might have to go looking for it a bit)
Criticism is so often nothing more than the eye garrulously denouncing the shape of the peephole that gives access to hidden treasure.
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Old 08-04-2012, 12:40 AM   #52
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StrataAdvance - thanks so much for the kind words. I'm glad it's holding up!


The guys in my biking club asked me if I won the lottery or something. I had been smiling for days. The fear of the unknown is so powerful, that to have its burden removed in an instant is to fly, to dream, to love. I suddenly felt the urgency in my need to see her vanish.

Was this how she felt? I never believed she was happy to be apart, or satisfied to be apart, but she had indeed been accepting of being apart in a way that I obviously wasn’t. Now that I felt assured that she was taking care of her gustatory needs, I was free to trust to the strength of our relationship, the depth of our feelings, and to know that when we finally came together, oh my, what a homecoming.

The day after her sister departed we were back to our usual conversation as she left work and headed for dinner.

“So did you enjoy some quality time with your sister?”

“It depends on your definition of quality time. She was kind of depressed, so we pretty much spent the whole week stuffing ourselves like pigs and drinking ourselves silly, much as you heard on day one.”

“What does your little sister have to be depressed about?”

“Boyfriend trouble. Do you believe he had the nerve to tell her she was getting fat?”

“But she’s not fat at all!”

“Well, she has gained a little bit. It’s senior year and she’s studying hard and not exercising and eating crap. I must have rubbed off on her at Christmas, because she’s gained like 10 pounds, but you’re right, that’s the thing of it. She gained 10 pounds, but she’s still pretty skinny and super curvy and totally hot! And this jerk tells her she’s getting fat! Can you believe it? And you know what jerks like this don’t understand? That calling someone fat when they look like her just makes a girl want to do a face plant in a pool of deep-fried sundaes and not come up until even the fat pants don’t fit and rub it right in his face!”

“Well, I’m glad she knew where to go for sympathy.”

“Damn straight! I’ll take care of my little sister.”

So little sister is gaining weight during senior year. The exact same time her bigger sister started gaining! Why do I have the feeling that Mr. boyfriend isn’t just worried about these first 10 pounds, but the next 100 that her older sister found in the years after?

“So how was the first day back at work after the week-long pity bender?”

“You are going to love this! I think I’m finally accepted at this place. I learned that I have a nickname.”

“Learned? Uh-oh, if they aren’t using it to your face that could be a bad sign. What is it?”

“Well, I guess right now I’m trying to stay positive and choose to think of it as endearing, and I’m sure you’ll appreciate it, but no, you’re right, I don’t think they’ll be using it to address me directly.”


“What’s my title?”

“Features Coordinator.”

“Good Boy! 10 points! In emails everybody abbreviates it as FC, and in office talk they refer to me as the FC, but when I was coming out of the bathroom today, I overheard a couple of the boys talking and one asked the other if he had run it by the Fat Chick. The other guy says no, he hadn’t asked the Fat Chick yet. They weren’t laughing, it wasn’t a joke, it was a purely business discussion. They call me the Fat Chick! So please tell me how I’m supposed to feel about that?”

“Hmmm… Well, the first thought that comes to mind is that if you find out what people are calling you behind your back and it’s not a bad thing, then it’s a good thing! I’m sure there are other things that you certainly wouldn’t want them calling you, right? And since they are obviously playing off the FC idea, you probably got the easiest and most harmless option. No harm, no foul.”

“So I should be happy everyone calls me the Fat Chick when I’m not around, that’s what you’re saying?”

“Yeah! If they really didn’t like you, do you think THAT would be your nickname? No honey, it would be much, much worse. You got off easy.”

“So why not Fantastic Chick, or Fabulous Chick?”

“Don’t you know the two-syllable rule? No nickname can have more than two syllables! Otherwise, you might as well just say the real name. It’s supposed to be easier. Think about it: T-bone, cheapskate, big foot, meathead...”


“It’s just an example.”

“So I should be happy.”


“Fat Chick.”

“They love you!”

“Oh, I know they love me… All right, endearing it is then. Well, I think I’ve idled in the parking lot of Sam’s Bar-B-Que long enough. You don’t want to keep me, do you?”

“Oh, ribs again, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say I’ve been on a bit of a ribs jag lately.”

“Well, then get your gorgeous ass in there!”

“What about the rest of me?”

“Get the gorgeous all of you in there!”

“Now you’re talking, lover boy. I love you. Good night."

“I love you too. Good night.”


She was earning one vacation day a month. I finally got her to agree that I should go visit her the week before Memorial Day and she would take off that last week of May. The need to see her out of fear had been replaced by the need to see her out of desire. I fantasized about her. My nights were occupied by lurid fantasies of just how much fatter she might be. She was smart enough and perceptive enough to know that I loved her pudge, and would be wildly enthusiastic if she did happen to gain weight. I wondered what she would think of me.

Before this year, I wasn’t exactly in shape, but I wasn’t exactly out of shape either. Put me next to someone soft, you’d call me trim. Put me next to someone trim, and you’d call me soft. It was now nearing the end of May and I was genuinely transformed. I had actually gained 10 pounds, but my pants were falling off me. There’s that male-female difference again. She had never said a word about my body… other than one specific part of it. I could see how she reveled in my compliments of her body. I could see her reciprocate and offer me the body that I so demonstrably lusted after.

Was it clear that I didn’t need her compliments? I can’t imagine that if she wanted to say something, either positive or negative, about my body that she would be shy. Did she even care about my body… other than one specific part of it? Are men’s visual needs mirrored by women’s emotional needs, and vice versa? Well, here’s hoping she likes the change.

My flight landed on the Friday before her week off. It was late morning, and felt strange after that weird thing where it seems like the flight only took 2 hours because of the time change. She sent one of the “boys” to pick me up at the airport. Does every single one of them fit the profile? Blue jeans, Doctor Who t-shirt, sneakers, goatee, glasses, and horrible, horrible hair. Me? I was trying to show off. New dress slacks and a shimmery wine-colored silk shirt that I purposely bought just a little small so it pulled slightly across my chest. Give a man five months to work out and he will be as vain as vain can be.

I wondered how she described me to him, because when I walked up to him holding the sign with my name, he seemed taken aback. I absolutely refuse to believe that I am biased about my wife’s looks. I have seen too many hundred men respond to her, even if just in passing, to doubt that to most men on the planet she would be one of the most beautiful women they’ve ever seen. As much as my lust has been fueled by her expansion, I understand that there are a lot of guys who would now wonder to themselves just how hot she would be if she lost 80 pounds. However, they would only say that because she was the most beautiful fat woman they had ever seen.

What did this guy think of her? Of having a drop-dead gorgeous, plump woman as his boss? What did he think of the man who got to sleep with that woman? Of the man who got to sink his hands into those soft hips, feel the heft of that fat belly pushing into him, press his face between those heavy breasts? Did he imagine us having sex? Did he imagine that over-fed woman behind the desk naked, hot, moaning with pleasure? I would bet a thousand dollars that is exactly what was going through this guy’s mind as I walked up to him.

After pleasantries we made our way to the car – a Lincoln Town Car. Not the vehicle I expected from a programmer. He held the door for me to sit in back. Wow, the VIP treatment! Certainly not because of me, but for whom I was married to. We made our way on to the mess of California highways.

“Sir, if you don’t mind, I need to stop by Starbucks on the way back.”

Sir. Wow, the VIP treatment continues. I can’t be more than 4 years older than this guy.

“Yeah, sure, don’t worry about it. Whatever you need to do.”

“Oh, it’s not for me sir, it’s for your wife. The last guy who forgot to bring her one of her Caramel Frappuccinos? She took him off lunch run duty as a punishment, and basically that’s the best way to get off campus for an hour if you need to run an errand or something, so I’m not going to screw that up. We always say, ‘don’t mess with the Fa…’”

He stops himself in mid-sentence and his eyes flash up to look at me in the rearview mirror, wide in fear. I’d better help him out before he commits hara-kiri by stabbing himself with a protractor. I finish his sentence with a bright, cheery tone.

“Fat Chick.”

The eyes are still looking at me in the mirror, not on the road. Thankfully, traffic is light. He flushes and his forehead is immediately slick.

“She knows?”

“Yeah. She knows. She thinks it’s cute.”

“Oh man, I am so off lunch duty.”

“Hey, I tell you what. You seem like a good kid; I don’t want to get you in trouble. How about you tell me all about my wife who I haven’t seen in so long and I give you a glowing report and don’t say a word about this?”

“I’m so, so sorry, sir. I didn’t intend any disrespect of any kind. If you wouldn’t mind, sir, you’d really be hauling my keister out of the fire.”

“Wow! Is she some kind of a tyrant? Are you guys afraid of her? ‘Don’t mess with the Fat Chick?’ What does she do to you?”

“No, no, that’s not it at all. She is a really great boss. Seriously. I never finished the sentence. We don’t say ‘don’t mess with the Fat Chick’, we say ‘don’t mess with the Fat Chick’s FOOD!’ She can be rather… demanding… regarding… food.”

He is still glancing up at me in the mirror every other second.

“Please, I know you’ve only known me for 20 minutes, but you can trust me. I want to hear everything you can tell me about her, and I give you my solemn word that I won’t say anything. I want to hear some good stories.”

He’s silent as he stares up at me, back to the road, and back up again. My character is being assessed. Apparently, I passed.

“Well, here’s just an example. I guess you sent her a big box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day, and this one guy tried to take one. He didn’t actually take one, but I guess she saw him reaching into the box when she caught him. She had him kicked off of the FC staff. Now, I didn’t see this happen myself, but I heard all about it, and I replaced that guy, so I know it’s pretty much fact.”

“She didn’t let anybody have a chocolate?!?”

I am laughing so hard that the guy starts to smile and loosen up.

“She tried to be funny about it, and asked if you had sent anyone else chocolates, and if not, then these chocolates must all be for her and not anyone else. She ate them pretty quick. It wasn’t a big deal, it’s not like they were sitting around for a long time tempting everybody.”

“So where do you go for the lunch run? I thought you guys had a cafeteria?”

“That’s what I’m talking about with the ‘don’t mess with her food’ thing. She doesn’t want what’s in the cafeteria. Every day it is the exact same thing – McDonalds: two McDoubles, medium fry, medium chocolate shake."

“So every day she sends someone to McDonald’s and Starbucks?”


“Twice what?”

“Starbucks. Once in the morning, and once in the afternoon. Grande Caramel Frappuccino with whipped cream. Don’t mess it up.”

“She has two frappuccinos a day?”

“Well, no. She has three. She brings one in with her in the morning, sends one of us down about 11 and again at about 3. Doesn’t she tell you about all this stuff?”

“No, she doesn’t tell me what she eats.”

Without looking up at me, he winces. Like you’d do if you were about to see someone crash on their bicycle. We drive on in silence. As we roll up a broad drive towards a group of stubbornly large white buildings, we pass a sign with the name of our destination on it.

“Whoa, aren’t we going to stop at Starbucks? I don’t want you to mess up!”

“The Starbucks is on campus, just up ahead. Only the McDonald’s is off-campus. We’ll grab the Frap on the way up.”

“Then why can’t she get her own frappuccinos?”

His eyes narrowed in thought as he glanced up at me with a puzzled look.

“Once she gets here in the morning, she usually stays at her desk. It’s pretty rare to see her out of her office.”

“Oh. I’d have thought she would be out meeting with various departments and stuff. You know, moving around a lot.”

We had reached the parking garage. The car stopped, he put his arm around the passenger seat and turned to look at me. He waited a strangely long time before replying.

“No, that’s our job. We do the running and report back to her. No, she doesn’t move much.”

He stared intently at me like he was trying to tell me something.

(continued in post 55 of this thread)

Last edited by Britt Reid; 08-05-2012 at 04:26 PM.
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Old 08-04-2012, 05:08 PM   #53
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I really liked the story the first time, but the direction you've taken with the continuation is fantastic. A Hitchcock level of suspense, but with a Fat Chick! Loved loved loved the latest chapter; don't leave us hanging for the BIG reveal!
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Old 08-04-2012, 05:26 PM   #54
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Default Exciting plot build up to

what I imagine will be a nice body bulk up! Very cleverly constructed and way outside of the typical format for these things! I love it.
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Old 08-04-2012, 06:08 PM   #55
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Uncle Jack (wow I love your stories!) and R F Burton: Thank you very much for the appreciation. It is very welcome news that it is fitting together.


We grabbed a grande caramel frappuccino with whipped cream at the in-house Starbucks and made our way through the campus. Guys are whizzing by on roller blades. I am relieved to see at least a decent-sized minority of females among the throngs of workers. This place is like NASA meets ComicCon. Cubicles are packed with brainiac paraphernalia. He points out the cafeteria as we pass. I glance in to see a massive food-service wonderland.

“But no cafeteria for the FC, right?”

“Well, not at lunch anyway.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me more. What does she get from here?”

He flushes and his eyes won’t meet my gaze.

“We get her a couple of pastries every morning.”

“Really! What kind?”

“Two chocolate éclairs with custard filling.”

We are now walking down a wide empty corridor apparently going to their building.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you guys are trying to fatten her up.”

His flush now goes to beet red.

“We just want to keep her happy, sir.”

“And you guys quickly learned that she’ll basically eat anything you put in front of her.”

“No offence sir, but she does seem to enjoy eating. We only do what she asks. You can’t blame us.”

“Blame you? No, you guys have it all figured out. This is exactly what I did when she was at home. She didn’t get like she is from her husband restricting her diet and forcing her to eat salads! She is happiest when she’s stuffed, isn’t she? And probably easier to work with, right? Believe me, I know better than anyone how positively she can react to food as long as she doesn’t think you’re trying to push it on her. So keep doing what you’re doing.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all, you guys have got to do what you need to do.”

“Not what we’re doing… you don’t mind what’s happening… to her?”

The corridor has ended and we are about to enter the next building. I can hear my blood pumping in my ears. Everything I’ve heard since I’ve arrived has made me delirious. I stop before the door to the building and look the guy in the eye to get as much mileage as I can out of this conversation.

“That she’s getting fatter? Do I mind that this job is making her fatter?”

He chuckles nervously, swallows, and glances briefly up and down the corridor.

“Yes sir.”

“Well, let’s just say that I want to keep her happy just as much as you guys do. So I want you to keep making her happy. Understood?”

He busts into a goofy smile.


I lean in conspiratorially.

“Now let’s go see the Fat Chick!”

Her outer office hummed with activity. Six or eight guys dashed around, worked on laptops, were on the phone, or were otherwise actively engaged. No females that I noticed. My guide handed me the frappuccino and left me in front of the closed door to her office and started for his empty desk. Curious stares surreptitiously came my way from around the room. When he got to his desk, my guide looked back at me and saw the lost look on my face. He smiled and gestured toward the door. I raised my eyebrows and pointed at the door. He nodded. Still looking for advice, I made a knocking motion. He shook his head, gestured again at the door, and gave me a big smile and an emphatic thumbs up.

She’s seated behind her desk and on the phone as I silently enter and quietly close the door behind me. The hum of the activity outside is instantly sealed away and there is only the sound of her voice.

“…if we can find a way to cut short the endless conversations about why warp drive is theoretically possible but commercially unfeasible, we could bring the html team up by about two weeks…”

I set the frappuccino on a small table next to the door and wait. In a moment, she looks up. Her eyes go wide as saucers. She runs her eyes up and down me. She has a crooked smile like she’s just seen an impressive magic trick but can’t figure out how it was done.

“…Hey, I gotta go. Let me take a look at it and we’ll catch up later.”

The phone goes back in the cradle. She pushes her chair back and rises with a slight effort without taking her eyes off of me, her eyes running up and down my body as she comes around the desk and approaches me. Her eyes finally meet mine and her smile goes wide and her teeth flash. Her voice is a smooth, low sexy growl.

“What is this gorgeous hunk of man standing in front of me? This man is going to ravage me, isn’t he? This man is going to have his way with me and meet no resistance whatsoever.”

She is now right in front of me. She runs her fingers across my chest and up my shoulders before reaching up to put her hands around my neck. She pauses with her lips two inches from my mouth, her eyes blazing into mine.

“What have you done, you sexy bastard?!? Is this all for me? Mama like!”

I reached around with that long-familiar and dearly missed slide, grabbed her, and leaned in for a passionate kiss.

She had gained a tremendous amount of weight. From the moment I saw her sitting behind the desk, I was actually shocked. Despite all my hopes and fantasies, I am shocked by this goddess of fat in front of me. Her face was dramatically fatter. Where did her neck go? Her face seemed to flow right into her shoulders. She wore a red sleeveless summer dress. Her breasts squeezed up into the top of the v-scoop of the neckline, her extensive cleavage started right from the base of her throat. Her ring. She wasn’t wearing her wedding ring, it hung from a dainty gold chain around her neck and wedged just slightly into the crevasse of cleavage. Her upper arms were huge and round like dough ready to go in the oven. I could see a ridge of fat along her forearms as she leaned in to rise from her chair.

This dress was too small. The fabric was made to be flowing and loose. Coming around the desk I can see the curve of her belly pushing out against the cotton as it came down from its pleated gathers just under her breasts. I can see the fabric go slack as it hits the slight crease between her upper and lower belly before going tight again as it cascades over her lower belly just below her navel.

Around the desk, she came right towards me, her eyes running up and down my body. Her hips fill the circumference of the dress and it rides up in back to accommodate her protruding ass. As she comes toward me step by step, eating her man with her eyes, her hips wallow from side to side. Because the dress is tight at the hips, with every step the unhappy fabric pulls gently across her lower belly – left… right… left… right. The dress is long and ends just above her ankles. Her feet are squished into matching red pumps.

She leans into me and her boobs and belly ooze against my stomach, groin, and upper thighs. I reach around, way around. Oh my, oh my. She is distinctly thicker, she is distinctly wider. My fingers plunge into the shivering, yielding softness of her hips, ending where the flesh of the hip is now the flesh of her rump, feeling the notch where the flesh of her back juts suddenly to meet the delicious swell of her ass. She can feel me rage against her. We are desperately grasping at each other. We kiss and we kiss and we kiss. My hands pull in and press the sides of her belly against me. She follows my lead and gently rocks her body back and forth against me, her thick layer of flab the fulcrum in this see-saw of passion.

She pulls me back toward her desk and with a generous push of one arm sweeps clear one side of the desk. She heaves herself to sit on the desk. With one arm she pulls my head in to keep kissing her. With the other, she grabs my hand and pushes it up inside her dress, pushing her legs apart. All I feel is cushiony softness as my hand ascends up the inside of her thighs. Despite spreading her legs, I feel her thighs pressing in from both sides. I reach wetness and she startles, but then quickly lets out a low moan. I press her down along the desk until she’s laying flat with her head just in front of her monitor. I squeeze my hand inside of the v-scoop where her reclining breasts are nearly touching her chin, and start circling her nipple. Our lips part and I start moving my lips down her chin and on to the exposed breast. Her hands are now grabbing and pulling my hair. There’s a knock at the door.

(Continued in post 61 of this thread)

Last edited by Britt Reid; 08-13-2012 at 08:18 PM.
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Old 08-05-2012, 01:53 PM   #56
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just wow...i cant believe how good this story is!! I hope you decide to keep going because I will read this until you can't think of anything else to write!
How do you win a war, when you're not sure who the enemy is?

I do what I do...
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Old 08-06-2012, 06:41 PM   #57
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Default As good as it gets...

you are creating art now. This rises very high in this genre! Outstanding.
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Old 08-06-2012, 09:51 PM   #58
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I have to join the voices praising your work. What's most striking to me is not your plot or your characters, it's your ability to write descriptions and capture moods in a very vivid, captivating manner. You run a marathon-story, but it gets better all the time!
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Old 08-08-2012, 11:24 PM   #59
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Eagerly awaiting more!
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Old 08-10-2012, 04:54 AM   #60
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Just found this story and really love it! Fantastic descriptions and a very very sexy weight gain
Meat is for the man. Bone is for the dog.

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Old 08-13-2012, 06:04 PM   #61
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morepushing13, R. F. Burton, Ulysses, Cylon Bob, and Samster: Thanks everyone for the wonderful encouragement. This sections seems a little slow to me, hopefully it doesn't disappoint. Better stuff is coming...


Her eyes flash open, glance quickly towards the door, and she looks at me with a wicked grin. She dramatically mouths the words OH MY GOD. I am off of her in a moment and she heaves herself towards the sitting-side of the desk, hops down, spins and plops herself into her chair, which rolls back several inches in reaction to the onslaught. I seat myself in one of the chairs facing her desk, crossing my legs to try to hide my interrupted erection, and taking quick breaths in an effort to attain some visible sense of decorum.

While vigorously pushing papers, pens, and objects back into position, she shouts for the visitor to come in. She is nearly panting from the exertion and quite flushed. She looks exactly like a woman who was just getting some. The door swings slowly open and one of the office boys peeks around and waves a McDonald’s bag. I look up at the clock; it’s 12:30. He tumbles in and stands nervously, looking like he knows he interrupted something. As she caught her breath, her business-woman attitude returned.

“Lunch! Excellent! I’m starving! Bring it over and grab that piss-warm Frappuccino on the table on your way."

She looks at me. “Honey, I didn’t even think to ask them to bring you something. Well, this is not going to work out. I thought you could hang out here until the end of the day, but if I can’t keep my hands off you then I’m not going to get much done.”

Her minion, still standing in front of her, goes scarlet from his neck to his forehead. “Why don’t I have one of the boys take you down to the cafeteria to get some lunch and then you can hang out in the library until I’m done.”

I rise and lean over to give her a very dignified kiss, to which she replies with a very undignified growl. The office boy goes even more scarlet, if that is possible. Having heard her plans, he quickly turns and departs. I move towards the door. I pause and look back and our eyes lock. She flashes me her winsome smile and winks.

“There is going to be a whole lot of naked Fat Chick ready for you tonight! See ya later, lover boy.”

I asked to go to the library first since my stomach was still confused about the time change. I was deposited down in the library amid its extensive collection of science fiction paperbacks and very professional-looking posters for the upcoming Magic: the Gathering tournament. While obviously nice that they had a library, it seemed designed to prevent anyone from hiding there. All the walls were glass, and while quite silent and tranquil, it was easily visible from the main corridor, fitness center, and cafeteria. I was the only one there.

As I wandered around this literary fishbowl, I marveled at how the clear California sunshine of reality made my earlier fears seem laughable. Sure it was the middle of the day, but no one was in the fitness center even though it appeared to rival any private gym in equipment and cleanliness.

Looking into the cafeteria, yes, there was a salad bar. It was about eight feet long and the only place in the cafeteria without a line. There appeared to be plenty of deep-fried and grilled items, and that’s where the lines were. She never would have been able to ignore the tastier options had she come down here, but her staff had enabled her to avoid the walk, stay at her desk, feel more productive and one of them got an hour’s worth of freedom outside of campus.

Yet I had been absolutely petrified with fear that she would throw herself into a withering diminishment. I chuckled quietly to myself as I saw her body again in my mind’s eye. She had gained some serious weight. Was she troubled by it? Could I hope that she didn’t care, or maybe even possibly didn’t mind? She had to have been eating A LOT and ALL THE TIME to grow as much as she had! I had to sit down for fear of passersby as my thoughts of her ran through my bloodstream.

After trying to distract myself by flipping through the most recent issue of Wired, I began to feel hungry. A quick glance revealed that the lines I saw during the lunchtime rush had dramatically died down. So I wandered over to the cafeteria. I grabbed a hamburger, some fries, and a soda. As I turned to pick a seat among the long rows of tables that filled up most of the space, I had a feeling that I had seen this place before. Before sitting, I looked around at the high arching windows and stonework, and thought, ah yes, how appropriate: Hogwart’s!

After my meal, I returned to my sanctum in the library and again my thoughts returned to her. She had gained so much weight! I stirred yet again as I reminisced about that belly, distinctly larger and softer, pressed into me. I thought of her reaction to me, the fire in her eyes. Did it cross her mind what I was thinking of her? It sure didn’t seem like it. She was never shy, and I’m her husband; she knows I love it and so why should she care? She must have been stuffing her face constantly since she got here to have gotten so much fatter. That was just like her. As long as no one is drawing her attention to it, she will mindlessly eat.

This new job must be keeping her so busy, and her staff keeping her so effortlessly supplied, that she’s had the best opportunity in her life to just keep eating and eating. She can’t be unaware that she has really been packing on the pounds. Her moniker surely didn’t come about just because she was indeed a fat chick, but at least as much because of her readiness to pack away whatever they put in front of her and the visible growth that accompanied it.

As my mind wandered, the sunlight arced its path across the library, slowly and delicately reaching farther up the opposite glass wall. The main corridor began to pulse with the accelerated footfalls of the harried throngs looking forward to their Friday nights. Between five and six, the corridor was positively jammed by the exodus of the drones and then quickly diminishing as the place emptied. Shortly before seven, my original guide retrieved me from detention. We meandered our way back through the now-echoing corridors that earlier had held so much anticipation.

When the elevator doors opened, she was there, seated in a chair in the foyer of the outer office area. One of her underlings stood by her. Seeing me, there was new energy in her eyes, and she out-paced him to the elevator as my guide held the door. She threw her arms around my neck just to give me a quick kiss, but even that necessarily required her belly to squish into me, pushing me to the handrail at the back of the elevator car. After the quick kiss, she held my hand and stood next to me, while the assistants avoided eye contact with us.

The four of us rode down to the basement. This was weird. We exited out into the loading dock area underneath the building. Not thirty feet ahead, her car waited, running, a third underling holding the door open. This was like a Mafia Don making a secret getaway. She got behind the wheel and I got in next to her. We waved to the acolytes as we pulled away and I realized that the Mafia exit meant she walked less than 100 feet from her desk to the seat of her car.

“Wow. That is some extensive pampering by your staff! Do they do this every day or is it just for me?”

She raised her eyebrows and chuckled in a you-can’t-be-serious way.

“No, it’s for ME. Yes, they do it every day. I think it was during the first week that I got lost and couldn’t remember where I left the car. I had to go to security and we used the cameras to find it. The next day, one of the boys showed me how to get under the building and now I leave it there in the morning and they have it waiting when I’m ready to go. Not bad, eh?”

“You’re like a goddess leaving her temple and her attendants catering to her every whim!”

She winks.

“Just like at home, right?”

As we drove, I leaned against the door and watched her. Her arms are so fat and they jiggled as we went over bumps. Her belly pressed out onto her lap, the seatbelt snaking up the side of her belly, dodging under one breast and over the other. She keeps glancing over at me and each time I am still staring.

“Do you like what you see or what? I swear I can feel your eyes on me!”

“Oh honey, I am drinking you in.”

“It’s a big drink.”

“My thirst isn’t quenched yet!”

“Holy crap! Did you go to come-back school or something? I think I just got wet. You are getting so laid tonight!”

As we get off the freeway, she picks up her phone.

“Julio, I’ll be there in a couple minutes… okay, thank you.”

“Who’s Julio?”

“He’s one of the valets at the hotel. I go to Chili’s every night and it is almost right next door to the hotel. Since there’s no easy parking by the Chili’s, I just leave the car out front and one of the valets runs down and grabs it. Then I only need to walk back, instead of there and back!”

“Chili’s? I thought it was Sam’s?”

“I went to Sam’s a few times, but it’s not as close, and the Chili’s ribs are nearly as good, but the biggest thing is that the only dessert they have is apple pie.”

“Well, Chili’s it is then!”

We pull up in front of the Chili’s in the middle of a trendy street. I can see the hotel just a couple hundred feet ahead on the next block. A liveried valet is jogging in our direction. She leaves the car running and we go inside. The hostess greets her warmly. We are guided to a booth and my wife pushes the table back towards my side as she slides in to give herself more room. Thankfully I’m now trim, because another one of her would definitely not fit on my side.

The server arrives with a Blue Moon (what else has a floating orange slice?) in hand and places it before her. She stands back and eyes me approvingly as I am introduced as the long-absent husband and they laugh at their apparently standing joke about whether I was mythical or not.She orders the exact same thing every night, so they hadn’t thought to get me a menu, her order was already in. To make it easy, I asked for what she was having.

What arrives in front of each of us is a huge platter with a full slab of ribs slathered in sauce, and a side of wedge potatoes. She actually giggled and clapped her hands with glee as it descended before her. I might as well have not been there. She tore into the ribs with a greedy relish. The bones piled up. Her first beer was finished and replaced by another without her saying a word.

I had barely started. I just watched as she destroyed her meal with abandon; I was very turned on. She paused in her gluttonous rampage and looked up at me from under her eyelids in the that sly, oh-so-sexy way that absolutely melts me. I feel her foot reach up between my legs until it presses against a very alert appendage. Her sauce-covered lips open in pretend shock and her eyebrows rise up. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me. Now she keeps her eyes on me as she brings each juicy, sauce-laden rib to her mouth and effortlessly sucks it clean, replacing the now-barren bone on the pile. All the while she rubs her foot back and forth against me.

She drops her foot as the server arrives and replaces her now empty platter with a huge chocolate lava cake. Every night!?! The server asks if I want dessert too, but I wave at my still half-full plate and tell her I’ll be fine. The server departs, but throws me a chagrined look. The foot doesn’t come back up. She’s slowing down and her focus returns to the food. She now seems methodical as the bites rise slow, but steady, to her waiting mouth. She has finished the entire dessert just as I finish my plate and she downs the last of the beer.

I’m full from just the rib platter, but my five-foot nothing wife just took down a whole dessert and two beers on top of it. How many thousand calories just passed her lips!?! This is what she eats every night? This is a weight gain recipe on steroids! She giggles again as I tell her I need to wait a few minutes before we can get up. She takes the opportunity to visit the ladies room. I watch with prurient interest as she heaves herself to the end of the booth, and as her wide ass sways down the aisle.

Before she returns, the server arrives with the bill. She glances towards the restrooms.

“Well, I’m so glad I finally got to meet the missing husband! Your wife is our very best customer! We try to take care of her.”

“It looks like you’re doing a great job.”

She glances again towards the restroom. She gives me a worried look.

“I know she misses you so much. She must be so lonely not seeing you for, what, five months? You know us girls, we’ll eat for comfort when we get lonely! If you want, you can let her know that we also have a half-slab platter, a whole bunch of lo-cal entrée options, and light beer…”

“If she could replace me with a lo-cal entrée and light beer, I wouldn’t think much of myself as a husband! No, she knows what she’s eating and it makes her happy. I really appreciate that you guys are taking care of her.”

“Are you sure? If you want, I could try to say something to her.”

“I think what you are doing now is absolutely perfect. I wouldn’t want you to change a thing.”

I am looking her right in the eye, smiling and trying to look confident and at ease. I’m hoping she gets the message I’m so delicately trying to send. I can see my wife coming out of the restroom. The server glances back and sees her as well.

“Sorry, I was just worried about you guys… you know… you haven’t seen her in a while…”

Ugh. I know she thinks she’s helping me out, or trying to ease the pain of seeing your fat wife packing it away like a linebacker at training camp, or something. One last try, more obvious this time.

“My wife is the most beautiful woman in the world and I’ve never thought she was more beautiful than when I saw her today. The only way you could take better care of her, would be to do even more.”

As the wife walks up behind her, the server raises her eyebrows in surprise and smirks and slowly nods her head. Then she winks. The wife fishes her company card out of her purse as I get up from the booth. We walked up to the front with the server to run the card. She thanked us profusely and said she looked forward to seeing us tomorrow. As I held the door for my gorgeous waddling bride, I looked back. The server was watching us leave. She winked and gave me a thumbs up

(Continued in post 63 of this thread)

Last edited by Britt Reid; 08-15-2012 at 10:35 PM.
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Old 08-13-2012, 08:18 PM   #62
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Smile Exquisite

I loved it before. I already said that. And now? Even more magnificent! It feels as though you are waiting to reveal her weight because you want to be sure you make it Just Right! Believable. And Yet. Worthy of her Gluttony . And obviously her Intentional Gaining. If it's any help at all. I have known a woman personally this year who gained 60 lbs in just over 5 months, And another who gained 64 lbs in just less than Three months. And Neither had anyone waiting on them and bringing food.Nor could either afford Chili's 6 nights a week. I hope you have her gain at least 75 lbs in the five months. And anything less than 50 would honestly be un-realistic.

You are a Master Storyteller. You prose is off the charts.You paint a picture with the same skill and artfulness that Vin Scully describes a baseball game with. And that is the reason Vin is known as the best of all time!
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Old 08-15-2012, 09:22 PM   #63
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Strata, appreciation never gets old! Thank you very much! Your enthusiasm is infectious and I have been working hard on the next sections. I hope you and everyone else enjoy them.


The hotel was only a few hundred feet away. It looked like one of those places that achieved its panache by renovating an historic building with post-modern additions and the latest trendy colors. This place was swanky!

As we slowly strolled into the hotel, hand in hand, she described how her company kept a block of rooms for the constant flow of VIPs, visiting off-site employees, and vendors. She had been given one of these rooms. Walking past the front desk and the wall of windows that looked out into the huge interior courtyard, we took the elevator to her floor and down the hall to her door.

While she fished her key card out of her purse, I noticed that she was breathing heavily, catching her breath. I glanced back down the hallway, estimating the distance we had come in my mind. We hadn’t left the restaurant more than five minutes ago. We had walked quite slowly, not intentionally, but enjoying each other’s company and the pulse of the urban street. My heart rate was not much more than it would be while sleeping. It couldn’t have been more than six or seven hundred feet to get to her door, but as I reflected on her daily activities, this must be the longest walk of her day.

Once inside the room, she whipped her purse across the room and it hit the far wall with a thud. She turned and pinned me against the door, her breathing quickly accelerating again, her hands running up my shoulders and her body pressed into me. Her grin turned wicked as she felt the pressure of my response growing into belly.

“Get this shirt off, you hot stud. It was all I could do not to tackle you in the street! I want to see this body! What the heavens name did you do?”

Though equally desperate to give her a very similar reply and get her out of that stretched red dress, I calmly and slowly began to unbutton my shirt. Seeing me tease her, she slapped my hand away with unexpected viciousness and started hurriedly unfastening the buttons. She hissed.

“You ass! As if five months without your dick isn’t bad enough, and you show up like this!”

While my hands stroked the tops of her flaring hips, she went from the bottom button, ran her fingers up my chest and eased the shirt over my shoulders. While I pulled my hands from the cuffs, she went for my belt with a growl. Now freed, she lifted up the front of her dress and pressed me down underneath the hang of her belly. She’s so much shorter that I really had to bend my knees as she did so, but who cares! This was the best possible use of all those work-outs!

She began to rub her belly back and forth over the top of me. I closed my eyes as gasped in pleasure. Many times she had knowingly triggered my obvious pleasure by rubbing her belly against me, but never before had it been big enough to put it on top of my stiff member. I opened my eyes and looked at her. Her face was glowing as she watched me enjoy the feeling.

I kissed her desperately as I raised the red dress up over her head, pausing only to get it past our mouths. She undid her bra as I knelt and pulled down her panties. Her thighs were so fat that as I pulled the panties down from the outside, the middle dragged behind resiliently, moving down only with great reluctance from the jostling plumpness of her inner thighs. Her breasts now hung at eye-level, my nose in the small triangle gap of the meeting of breasts and belly. A

s I kissed the top of her belly, my hands worked up and over her breasts, circling the nipples and down onto the belly that swelled into my chest. It was so soft, so pliant. I could knead it in my hands as I descended down under the bulging prominence of her lower belly that had just given me such a glorious massage. I hefted her belly slightly, feeling its heavy resistance to my gentle push. Keeping one hand on her belly, while kissing and caressing it, I reached in between her legs, wiggling my hand between those fat thighs to find the glory hidden above them.

Her hands pulled at my hair and she moaned. Distracted by her pleasure, she started to lose her balance and took a quick half-step back. She patted me on the head and urged me to come to the bed. As I rose up from my knees, she turned and waddled toward the bed. Her ass was enormous and I actually shook my head in disbelief. She was so beautiful. My theory was holding true.

Yes, she was an amazingly fattened version of her former self. Yes, her ass and thighs were lumpy and shook vigorously, her back had two thick rolls descending on to the tops of her shivering hips, and her arms were loaves of dough hanging over her cute elbows. But it was her! That same basic shape. Even at 103 pounds she had been unusually curvy, and I was now looking at those same flaring hips and juicy thighs. Only now she was so deliciously, wonderfully, artfully, mind-blowingly… MORE!

With two quick hops, I was right behind her as she crawled onto the bed. I pushed my hands into that wide ass and gave a strong shove. She yelped as she face-planted into the pillows, her butt in the air and her belly squished out to her sides. I leapt on to her. Her yelp transformed into a squeal of delight as I pressed myself between her cheeks and kissed her fat-marbled back.

Face-to-face and nuzzling in post-coital bliss, her breasts and belly flowed into me in an almost independent fashion like they never had before. There were no spaces. The flab of her arms pressed into the flab of her sides, which poured into the ooze of belly, which pressed against the still-heaving roundness of her boobs, which caressed her plump chin. Over them rose the rounded mound of her hip, flowing luxuriously into the rolling fatness of her thigh, draped over the spreading, supporting plumpness of the other.

She was solid woman. She was my woman. She was my wife. She was gloriously, perfectly fat. My hand caressed her belly, while her finger traced doodles in my chest. I stared at her belly, still enthralled by the new heft and wonderful softness as my hand worked back and forth. I glanced at her for a moment amid my entrancement with my belly. She was smiling and her eyes shining.

“Hello! You know I’m here too!”

“Of course, you are honey!” I kissed her sweetly on the lips, but with my hand still rubbing her belly. “I almost can’t believe I’m finally with you. You are amazing! You are so gorgeous!”

She swatted my hand away. “I think maybe my sister was right!”

“Right about what?”

“I’ve gained weight, haven’t I?”

Crap! This question has no better answer whether your wife is two ounces or two tons. Is she teasing me? She has obviously gained a lot of weight! Is she looking for confirmation? Am I supposed to pretend I don’t notice or don’t care? Am I supposed to tell her how shocked I was to see how fat she’s become and I’ve never been so turned on in my life? As the options flew through my brain, my thoughts were pureed into a mush of confusion and nothing came out. I stared at her and she stared right back, waiting.

“Oh great, I must be a freaking whale.”

I desperately tried to recover. Shaking my head, I sputtered and then gushed.

“Are you kidding me! You are the most amazing, most beautiful woman on this earth! I just don’t know how to answer your question, because when I look at you I don’t care whether or not you’ve gained weight, I just know what you do to me. As you just experienced, I am totally, 100%, absolutely overwhelmed by you.”

“Oh no, I must be huge. Can you really notice?”

“Stop it! Why are you doing this? You just blew my mind and made me go ga-ga over you, and you come right back with all these self-doubts. A lot of wives would give anything to still have their husbands drooling over them and chasing them around the house. I’ve tried to tell you so many times that guys are driven by what they see. Strip clubs aren’t filled with guys looking for a hug! I love you with all my heart, but you also drive me wild! I need you to see that!”

I had pulled away from her and I was trying very hard to keep my voice in control. She a pleading look on her face and she was trying to shush me, her finger on my lips.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I don’t need your anger; I just need your comfort. I know you love my body and it makes me feel great to know I’m desired. That makes me feel so relaxed and free with you, but I think that’s also the problem. Here I am eating like a horse every day, getting no exercise, and so totally wrapped up in work and confident in your love that I don’t even care. It’s like I know I’m already fat, so I might as well just totally let myself go.”

“And that’s a problem because…”

She punches me hard in the chest.

“You’re not the only person in the World. What does everyone at work think of me?”

“You’re kidding me, right? They call you the Fat Chick.”

I’m laughing. She props herself up to give herself more leverage for harder punches.

“Shut! Up! It is one thing to be fat and another thing to be fat and shoving a milkshake fire hose down your throat every day!”

“That is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

She sits up. With a fierce grimace and two fists, she begins absolutely pummeling me. I am laughing hard and covering my head as she rains well-intended but utterly ineffectual blows down upon me. I start reaching out quickly between roundhouses to tickle her tummy. She shrieks each time, but now she’s getting tired. As the blows diminish in accuracy and intensity, the tickles increase. The tables are quickly turned. Now she is howling, laying back on the bed, trying to catch her breath and defend herself from my searching fingers.

I straddle her. Oh, she is so fat! The wave of her shaking belly rolls against me and flows out to her sides. I immediately go erect. Despite her struggling against me, I am easily able to pin her arms above her head and hold them with one hand. The one-handed tickles smooth to caresses along her belly and I lower myself down onto her pillowy body to kiss her. Eyes closed and mouth open, she tries to raise her head to meet me with a lustful urgency and we kiss passionately. I release her hands and roll to her side and start caressing her face, our lips still locked.

The kissing evolves into a cuddle. She is stroking my hair as I rest my head against her breasts. She whispers into my ear.

“I love you so much. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”

I respond sleepily, half-obstructed by a mouthful of boob.

“Honey, that is exactly what I tell myself each and every day.”

I am walking through an ancient, long-deserted, ruined city. The streets, bordered by toppled columns and shattered walls, begin to rise up an incline. It gets steeper and steeper, until I am climbing up through the ruins. I come to a ledge where an old friend from high school sits staring off into the distance. Wordlessly moving past him, I ascend into a narrow slot in the stone wall rising up from the back of the ledge. The slot becomes narrower and narrower, and I need to turn sideways to continue. I don’t know where I am going, but I know I need to get somewhere. Now it is so narrow that the wall is pressing hard against my arm. The stone is so cold on my arm.

My eyes flutter open and I see her brilliant smile as she sits on the bed next to me. I look down. She is pressing a carton of Haagen-Daas against my arm. She sits sideways on the edge of the bed, her oh-so-soft belly billowing out onto her leg. I raise myself up on my elbow and rub my eyes and then smile at her.

“Hey beautiful. What time is it?”

“It’s not even midnight, mister Eastern Time Zone. I wanted to let you sleep, but it just seemed so wrong to feed my bedtime snack to myself when this hot stud is right here in the bed. Are you interested?”

The sleepiness dropped instantly. I quickly sat up. She giggled with glee like a little girl at Christmas and flipped around so she was leaning luxuriously against the pile of pillows. She opened her mouth invitingly and proffered me the frosty carton. Spoonful after beautiful, creamy spoonful disappeared into her waiting mouth. As the carton emptied, I marveled at her forethought.

“You really were eager for me to come, you even got ice cream.”

She chuckled.

“You don’t know the half of it. I’ve been so eager, or maybe you could say desperately lonely, that I’ve been eating a carton before bed every night since I got here.”

I instantly went hard. She was shaking her head, but she was smiling a truly devilish smile. Yet again, she knew exactly how to play me. She continued.

“How does that make you feel? While you’re back in Bumscrew, Ohio pumping iron and getting all chiseled, and your wife is lying in bed, watching late night TV, packing her pie hole full of ice cream every night and getting fat.”

She grabbed a hold of me and started stroking. I stared at her, my eyes burning with lust. I reached behind me to set the empty carton down on the sidetable. I turned back and her arms were spread wide to receive my embrace. As I leaned into her, she wrapped her arms around me and growled.

“Come feel where all that ice cream has been going. Your wife is getting really FAT!”

Last edited by Britt Reid; 08-15-2012 at 10:33 PM. Reason: typo
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Old 08-16-2012, 03:43 AM   #64
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Decided to reread the story before looking at the knew stuff, so it took a while, but finally up-to-date. Kind of scared the new parts would not be as good as the old, but need not of worried it is all excellent.
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Old 08-16-2012, 04:57 AM   #65
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Default Thought provoking

Wow. A good story is certainly thought provoking-which this one certainly IS! This is a minor cliffhanger in that her weight is not revealed.AND I found her slight ambivalence interesting.Or a better way to say it the tiny bit of self-doubt expressed-when she said"You can really tell I've gained weight".
Prior to that it appeared that she had been totally gaining intentionally-and in here
heart-of-hearts she knows she has.This is Great stuff! And now I also just wondered if she has not stepped on the scale since she was 218 lbs at their home.Does she know her weight? Or will they relive their old joy from the past with a weigh-in? Hmmmm
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Old 08-16-2012, 05:39 AM   #66
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I don't post often, but felt I needed to here.. Far and away one of the best multi part stories I've ever read here. Great job NKT
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Old 08-16-2012, 08:27 PM   #67
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Owl, Strata, and Booyah: little boys at school loved to get praised and I'm no different. Thank you very much, it is greatly appreciated. I am very happy if it is living up to the earlier installments, that was my biggest worry.

Strata, She is definitely of two minds on the issue. She knows what makes her husband tick and how easy it is to give in to her tendencies, but at the same time she suffers from very common fears of inadequacy or shame. The next section is almost ready, but as a hint, yes, on some level she understands that she must be gaining weight. Either consciously or unconsciously, there is no scale in her life right now...

...she has no idea how much she weighs.

Look for an update soon. Thanks for reading!
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Old 08-17-2012, 09:58 AM   #68
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Another fantastic update
Meat is for the man. Bone is for the dog.

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Old 08-17-2012, 01:45 PM   #69
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crtwrght_mrk has said some nice things

Just thought I'd add my voice to the multitudes: Fantastic work.
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Old 08-17-2012, 09:54 PM   #70
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samster and crtwrght mrk: thanks guys, it means a lot. I know it took me a while, but I am very glad I revived this. I still see the story stretching out in front of me. I have no clue how long it is going to be...


If you live in the Eastern Time Zone and you want to go to Hawaii, don’t even think about staying for less than two weeks. You arrive and go to bed at 7 pm because you’re so tired. You wake up at 3 am with nothing to do for several hours and your face is in your soup at 8 pm that night. It’s four or five days before you are finally mostly adjusted to the local schedule. If you were on a one week vacation, enjoy your two days in Hawaii!

This wasn’t nearly that bad, but I was awake before five. It was still dark out and she was in deep slumber. We were still locked in the embrace we enjoyed at the end of our ice cream-fueled go-around. I laid there for while thinking how truly, deeply, soulfully happy I was. The heart-wrenching loneliness of those long months apart was washed away as if it never existed. I felt like I could hold this woman and smell her hair for the rest of my life. Except that I was getting hot. My body knew it wasn’t going back to sleep and that wonderful, loving embrace was becoming stifling. I had to get up. I carefully extricated myself from our human pretzel and sat on the edge of the bed, straining my eyes to pick out my underwear from the darkness of the floor. I wondered how I would fill the time until daylight. After a few moments thought, I had my plan.

I dressed, made myself at least somewhat presentable, and went down to the front desk. I told the clerk who I was and explained the situation. There were no valets on duty yet, so he told me where I could find her car and gave me the code to put it back. Directions to the nearest Wal-mart in hand, I mentally made a list of everything I would need for a pancake breakfast in bed.

I’m sure that long, ebony-colored table along most of one wall in the room was meant for style and not for cooking, but the portable griddle fit on it quite nicely. The morning sunlight was pouring through my end of the room and I had opened the balcony door just a few inches to let in some fresh air. It was almost 8 o’clock. I figured that she must usually get up by now, although the previous evening was certainly more active for her than usual. Most of all, I wanted to see if the smell of pancakes would wake her up.

If she knew what to say to get me to perform with maximum potential in bed, then I guess I know what will get her out of bed, or at least woken up. The first batch was flipped but not quite ready to come off the griddle when she began to stir. By the time I approached with a bedtray laden with pancakes, syrup, butter, and juice, she was adjusting the pillows behind her, her eyes still half-closed, but smiling broadly. She’s a night owl and I know enough not to try to talk to her when she wakes up, so I was somewhat startled when she actually looked up at me and spoke.

“I love you so much! This is amazing! Just promise me I’m not too fat.”

“I promise you are not too fat.”

“Bring me those pancakes.”

True to form, she slathered the golden disks in butter and drowned them in syrup, and ate in silence. I sat at the end of the bed and watched in ultimate domestic comfort. As she neared the end of the first stack, she pointed to the plate between bites. I blew her a kiss and rose to prepare another stack. When she was finally done, she was ready to engage with the world. She leaned back against the pillows and took a deep breath.

“Oh, I am so full. Thank you, honey. Now, we are not going to spoil a good thing. I have heard that there is a gym in this hotel. You are going to march down there and work those rippling muscles of yours, and I am going to relax in bed and watch TV and maybe doze a little. Deal?”

There was no possible way I could conceal my childish grin, her flagrant laziness thrilled me.


I gave her a kiss, changed into work-out clothes, and headed down to find the gym. As appropriate to such a hip, modern place, the gym was truly first class. I grabbed some cardio on one of the bikes, rested and cooled down a while, and then hit the free weights. It was nearly noon when I was finally back up at the room. The TV was on, but she knew herself well and she was asleep. She looked like a plump angel spread across the pillows as her chest gently rose and fell in the mid-morning light. I was a sweaty mess, so I took the opportunity to jump in the shower before she woke up.

As I turned off the water after a long, hot shower, I could hear the murmur of her voice on the phone. I emerged from the steamy bath with one towel around my waist and another mopping my hair. She looked at me with a mischievous smile.

“I feel like a naughty girl.”

“You are a naughty girl.” I winked. She put her hands on her hips and stuck out her tongue at me.

“I just ordered room service.”

“So did I, except my order is already here.”

I dropped the towel from around my waist and approached the bed. She actually blushed and her eyelids fluttered. It was incredibly cute. You would have sworn it was the first time she ever saw me. Then she closed her eyes and waved her arms in front of her.

“Stop it! Stop it! Put your towel back on! I’m hungry. Food first. No sex on an empty stomach, it will ruin my mood!”

I ignored her and kept coming towards the bed, now climbing on. Of course I don’t mind her eating, but hungry? Empty stomach? I nearly emptied a box of pancake mix into her belly less than 3 hours ago. My blood was still pumping from the work-out and I really wanted her.

“Are you turning me down? You’re kidding me, right? I’ll feed you later; I want you right now.”

Now I’m in her face and she is really trying to fight me off.

“Please! I’m serious! Just let me eat first, then we’ll do whatever you want. I’m used to it that way.”

“Used to it? What do you mean? I’ve only been here one night.”

Now she flushed twelve shades of scarlet.

“Are you really that thick-headed? Why do you think I woke you up last night? Because I’m used to you not being here. Because every night I’m so lonely that I stuff myself with ice cream thinking of you, and then I let my fingers do the walking. I’m not a nun. Now it’s just part of the feeling.”

“Well, all right then. Every night? No, you’re not a nun! You should have carpal tunnel syndrome! Now where’s my towel?”

She hits me with a pillow. And I get up to grab my towel. I had plenty of time to throw on my sweatpants to be ready when the room service arrived. It arrived old-fashioned style on a wheeled, tableclothed cart under a big silver dome: two cheeseburgers with fries and two milkshakes. The naughtiness continued as she ordered a pay-per-view of the latest feature. We lay in bed, scootched up close, to eat and watch the movie.

As the movie started, she went for the milkshake first. She alternated bites from the burger and pulls from the shake until both were gone. I had finished my burger and started on my fries. As she watched me reach for the next fry, she opened her mouth. I know the rules to this game! My fries disappeared one-by-one into her waiting mouth and I moved right into her fries, until they too were gone. She leaned back and grabbed her belly.

“Oh, I am so full. This is my problem. I just can’t stop eating until everything’s gone. I need a beer. Grab me one please.”

I looked at the cart, perplexed. Only my unfinished milkshake still sat on it. She laughed out loud and shook her head.

“I keep forgetting how badly I out-scored you on the SAT. Hello? I LIVE HERE! They’re in THE FRIDGE!”

Chagrinned, I walked to the mini-fridge. It was filled with Blue Moon.

“You might as well grab two for me and however many you want so you don’t have to get up again.”

Beer sounded better than a milkshake, so I grabbed four. I took my barely-started milkshake and put it in the mini-freezer to keep it hard for later. She wasn’t lying. The little freezer was full of Haagen-Daas and I had to jockey things around to get the milkshake to fit. Back in bed, we each guzzled a beer and each nursed the second. She finished her second beer before I did, clanked the bottle down on the side table, snuggled further down on her pillows, and put her hands behind her head.

“All right, lover boy. It’s time for dreams to come true. I want a belly rub.”

I was only too happy to comply. I lay next to her, rubbing with one hand, and leaning my head on the other as I faced her, propped on my elbow against the pillows. Where was her stomach? If the point of a belly rub is to sooth a stuffed or agitated stomach, then the massaging needed to affect the stomach. She was so much fatter. There was so much new flab between her stomach and her skin that it was very hard to tell if I was doing anything or not. I quickly gave up and just started rubbing to serve sensual rather than medicinal purposes.

The rubs gradually exceeded any possible relevance to the location of her stomach. She began to respond in a very favorable way. Whether it was the rub, or her new admission that she enjoyed the prelude of food and feeling full, I didn’t care, either one was incredibly sexy. Her hand came down from behind her head, reached down and found me already at attention. Her other hand slid over and pulled my head in for a kiss. As the explosions and bad dialogue of the movie carried on in the background, we made our own special effects.

The credits were rolling when we finally returned our attention to the movie and snuggled together under the sheets. Once you paid for a movie you could watch it continuously for 24 hours, so as it started again we decided to watch since we had missed most of it anyway. She asked for two more beers and I brought us four more. Again she drank them faster than me. Four empty bottles littered her sidetable and I still hadn’t finished my third. I guess the beers were starting to hit her, because she decided to hit me.

“You bastard! You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Don’t try to tell me that wasn’t your plan!”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“The milkshake! I can see it sitting in the freezer! I can hear it calling me!”

“So I was supposed to leave it out to make warm chocolate soup?”

“Shut up and bring me the dxxx milkshake!”

Who was I to argue? She sucked the milkshake dry in minutes and snuggled in tight against me. You can’t blame the movie if you decide to have sex in the middle of it, but this movie couldn’t have been that good, because this time she just fell asleep. I ignored the movie too and for while just watched her breathe, stroked her hair, and marveled at the size of the mountain her body created under the sheets. My reverie finally dwindled into practicality. If she was napping, then I’d better nap as well, because by all indications tonight was going to be an encore performance of last night.

She was already one nap up on me, and it wasn’t too much of a surprise that I woke to an empty bed and the waning rays of the sun hitting the wall above my head. More of a surprise was the loud, pulsing Eurobeat of Basshunter’s song Every Morning filling the room. Without moving my head, I could see her ipod in the hotel-provided docking station, but she must in the bathroom or the closet by the door. I could hear the sound of her voice singing along with the music.

She came back in view, naked but carrying two dresses in front of her. She was dancing. She spun and sashayed her way over to the mirror on the wall where she starting shaking what her Mama gave her. How do women know how to move their bodies like that? While she moved she alternately held the dresses against her body, gauging their effect. She set the dresses down on the ivory table as the ipod switched over to Morgan Page’s Strange Condition. Now she was truly dancing the dance of the unobserved: uninhibited, free, primal.

She was totally rocking out. She was popping that huge butt out, dropping it the best she could. She put her hands on her shivering hips and thrust them side to side like her life depended on it. Now her hands were in the air, those fat arms framing her face and nearly the same size as her head, her wide hips doing a slow roll as she spun a languid circle. She must certainly have convinced herself that I was soundly asleep. But she was checking. Her eyes glanced over my way and she was caught. She froze for a moment as she went beet red upon seeing my cheesy grin and wide eyes, but her Inner Goddess wasn’t done yet.

She rolled and danced her way over to me with no less abandon than she had displayed the moments before. She was now shaking her belly right in front me as she swayed from side to side. Her belly hung in a perfect arc starting from the widest part of her hips, a line on each side where it met the tops of her thighs, and hanging low enough to cover her goods. With my eye-level view, I got a 3-D like view of how far her belly now stuck out in front of her.

As I searched for a glimpse of her snatch while she moved, I was suddenly reminded of her office. Against her door as she pushed my hardness down underneath that belly, I remembered that feeling as she rolled that squishy flab back and forth over the top of me. Now I could see it. It must be a perfect fit. That curve underneath her belly matching my hard curve and pointing me right to heaven.

I reached out fast to try to grab her and pull her on top of me, but she saw that move coming a long time ago. She stepped back so she was just out of range, shook her head and waved her finger in front of me as her hips bobbed in time with the music. Now that finger was pointing to her open mouth, and she was nodding. It must be time for dinner.

(Continued in post 75 of this thread)

Last edited by Britt Reid; 08-24-2012 at 01:02 PM.
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Old 08-17-2012, 11:42 PM   #71
Join Date: Dec 2008
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conversecurves has said some nice things
Default Wow

That was absolutely amazing, from start to finish I could not stop reading it, even if you ended it at your original ending it would have been perfect, but I'm so glad you decided to continue it!
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Old 08-18-2012, 05:08 PM   #72
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mdy73 has said some nice things

It was nice and hot reading for saturday night!!! Wonderful, just for my taste...
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Old 08-18-2012, 06:06 PM   #73
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jdpoodoo can now change their title

That was cool I really like this story. I actually played the songs mentioned while reading it lol. Awesomeness! keep it going!
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Old 08-19-2012, 08:40 PM   #74
Join Date: Jun 2007
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Default So Muxh to Ponder

This story stimulates my mind! She ate ice cream every night from loneliness. But he's there now and still she eats a carton. Is she addicted? Is she showing off for him? Knowing it will turn him on? Is she doing it because of the times long ago when she ate a bowl or two each night as her reward for exercising on the bike? SO Much to ponder! I Love it!

This couple is a perfect match and totally in Love. Surely someday they will want children. Will she have to eventually lose weight for this to be feasible? Another point to ponder.

And lastly for now.The rate at which she is consuming calories is familiar to me in a couple of Real Life scenarios.And the two ladies in question that I know personally gained massive amounts of weight. Our heroine could quite possibly be near or even Over 300 lbs by now.And with her consumption and previous weight gains.I would be shocked if she is not at least past 250 lbs on her very short frame.I cannot wait for your treatment on this. I not enjoyed a story more in recent memory.Thank you for the very regular and prompt updates.
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Old 08-23-2012, 09:45 PM   #75
Join Date: Jun 2007
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I had hoped to have included a couple of crucial scenes in this section (StrataAdvance: so sorry, one of these was her weight!) but I just haven't had the time I needed to get it done. I have a major life event (all good - happy stuff) coming in a couple of days and my writing will be on hiatus for a while. What I have ready seems respectable enough to stand alone and at least give something to fill the gap until I have time to write again. Enjoy.


She picked a white linen sundress with brightly colored flowers and fruits on it. This was classic fat girl dress. The bodice portion closely cupped her large breasts and brought the eye to the extensive cleavage bulging up from the center. It was cinched with a string right under the breasts and from there it flowed in loose billowing fabric to just below her knees.

It was sleeveless, which put her plump arms on full display. I loved this dress. You obviously could see her cute and chubby face. That, combined with the hefty, compressed bosom and the water-balloon arms left no doubt that this was a woman of considerable substance. However, below the bosom, that loose flowing fabric allowed no hint of the body beneath it.

You could see that it draped over a protruding belly, wide hips, and an obstinate ass, but it was so loose and shifting that you only caught the barest glimpses of moments when the true size and shape of the body beneath was revealed. It teased me.

With every step she took, it made me want to rip that dress right off her body so I could get to what was underneath. She looked enormous and enormously hot. Not only did it look great and drive me wild, it was a wonderful dress for gaining weight. As long as not an inproportionate amount of weight went to the boobs, you could easily hide dozens of new pounds within its accommodating folds.

It was new. She cut the tags off just before she put it on. Her whole wardrobe was new. She had lived in sweats for the year while she worked at home and went from chubby to fat. When she left home she had basically nothing that was professional or presentable that fit. Now that closet in the hotel room was packed, she was back in fashion-mode, and the plus-size retailers in the Bay Area seems to be having a very good first half of the year.

I thought of that belly constrained by her red dress yesterday. Based on the summery style, she must have bought that sometime this Spring. If it only took two or three months for her to grow to the point where it had started to look inappropriate, I had a feeling many of the new items hanging in the closet still with tags weren’t just additions to her wardrobe. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, they were replacements.

Great sex, a loving husband, two naps, dancing to her favorite music, new clothes, and her first Saturday off since her sister had visited in late March – she was positively bubbly as we strolled down the street towards Chili’s. We entered and were shown to the very same booth. This must be her reserved spot. The way we sat, I could see the waitress coming and the wife had her back to her. Here she came, the same waitress, beer in hand, smiling broadly at me.

As she reached the table and set down the beer, she looked at my wife. She burst out laughing. My wife and I stared at each other in confused puzzlement. I’m talking about out-loud, Monty Python-caused, can’t-catch-your-breath guffaws. Still roaring, the waitress grabbed my wife’s hand, pulled her out of the booth, and dragged her around the corner. Now I could hear my wife’s boisterous laughter join in and she shouted out.

“Guilty as charged!”

She came back around the corner alone, her eyes shiny with tears and still chuckling. She squeezed her way back into the booth. As she settled herself, I leaned forward and spread my hands out, urging her for an explanation. First she took a long drink from her beer, then leaned in herself with a sly smile.

“She said I looked like the cat who ate the canary and we must have been having sex non-stop since last night. She apologized for laughing, but she said I looked so different. She sees me every day and she said I’ve never looked so happy. I think she’s right. I think this has been the most perfect day in my entire life.” She reached out and held my hands across the table. “I love you so much. I can’t believe the way you make me feel! I think I’ve been hiding from myself how hard it’s been to be without you. I feel like a dam has burst inside of me. I feel so sexy, so free, so loved.”

“That’s because when you look in my eyes, you know you are those things.”

Already on an emotional edge from the laughter, tears now poured down her cheeks.

“How do you know how to say perfect things like that, but you can’t figure out that the beer is the fridge?”

“Because I’m too distracted by you to concentrate on any other part of my life.”

“You just did it again. I’m going to start writing these down.”

She took one hand away to wipe her eyes, took another few gulps of beer, and then returned to holding my hands. The waitress walked briskly towards the table carrying a menu. Reaching us, she looked at us and paused.

“You guys are just the cutest thing ever! You look like teenagers on a date.” She offered me the menu. “I wasn’t sure if you were as much of a rib addict, excuse me, I mean aficionado, as your lovely wife. Do you want to look at a menu?”

“I can’t promise that I’ll go exclusive like somebody here, but yeah, I’ll do the ribs at least one more night.”

“And what do you want to drink?”

I looked at the wife's quickly emptying mug.

“I’ll just have a coke. I have a feeling someone might be needing a little guidance getting back to the hotel tonight.”

On cue, she took her beer and drained it. The waitress returned with my coke and two more beers, telling my wife that she had been promoted to 2-for-1 status in honor of our reunion.

The waitress came bustling down the aisle with the heavy platters. The wife had her next beer to her lips, but I noticed that the waitress carefully selected which of us got which platter as she placed them in front of us. My ribs were distinctly scrawnier and less saucy than hers. Mine looked perfectly fine, but hers looked like some mutant state fair championship ribs and they were awash in sauce. She also had more wedge potatoes than I did. Setting down the beer, the wife was already entranced by the food and preparing to dig in. I looked up at the waitress and she was looking at me. She winked.

“Does everything look okay? Can I get you guys anything else?”

I answered because the wife already had her mouth full of rib and her chin full of sauce.

“No, everything looks great. You are doing a wonderful job of taking care of us.”

I winked back. She left us to our meal. Once again, I might as well have been on a different planet. The food had 100% of her attention. No foot came searching in my direction, but I was certainly enjoying the show. She powered her way through the enhanced meal without stopping. She polished off the third beer shortly after leaving her platter a boneyard with a few smears of sauce. The waitress swept in to replace the empty platter with the molten chocolate cake that had an extra scoop of ice cream on it. If the wife noticed, she didn’t say anything. She just ate.

I had now finished my platter, but she didn’t offer me any of the dessert; the extra fork brought by the waitress sat unused on the table in front of me. She was struggling. She started putting down the fork to rest a little between bites as the cake got smaller and the ice cream melted into a glistening pool around a chocolate archipelago. While resting, she would look at me and smile, but it was only as if she wanted support. She would pick her fork back up and continue the struggle. When the last bite was finally done, she leaned back against seatback and heaved a huge sigh of relief, as if she had just climbed a mountain or won a race.

Now she suddenly seemed happy again. The glaze was removed from her eyes and replaced by the wicked gleam that always portended such good things. Now the foot came up and found what it was looking for. Unfortunately, the waitress selected that same moment to arrive at the table to clear the dessert dish and for chit-chat. As the two of them began discussing our plans for the next few days and things to do in the area, I realized I needed to heed the call of nature. When I returned, the waitress was sitting in my spot in the booth, still happily chatting away. Seeing me approach, she lithely scooted out and rose to allow me to get in. With a shy smile, she hustled off carrying the dessert dish and the empty beer glasses.

“I think she likes you. She seems to think you’re quite the hunk – not that she’s wrong of course.”

“Well, then I guess I’ll have to disappoint her, because I’m a one lady man.”

“Oh, don’t worry, she knows. She said it’s obvious that I have you wrapped around my finger.”

“I’ll wrap around any part of you I can get!”

We paid and made our way out into the street. The evening was beautiful, the glow of early summer sunset still hanging in the air above the buildings. The boulevard in front of us was lined with mature trees, twinkling with little lights. Under and among the trees were tiny cafes, bistros, and right in front of the Chili’s, a wine bar.

From somewhere along the boulevard, soft music played. We crossed the street, sat side-by-side on a bench, and each ordered a glass of wine. She leaned her head against my shoulder. The wine tasted exactly like the evening: a soft glow of dissipating warmth, the flutter of little bird’s wings in the branches above our heads, tiny lights reflected and refracted crisply in the goblets where the burgundy enchantment slowly swirled to the rhythm of our contentment. She only needed to speak in the mellowest hum for me to hear her clearly in the tranquil hush under the trees.

“We should go into San Fran and see the Golden Gate, Chinatown, and ride the trolleys tomorrow.”

“I was thinking maybe we could drive to Santa Cruz and see something new to both of us.”

“But I haven’t seen San Francisco yet.”

I pulled away a little so I could more easily turn and look her in the eye. I was genuinely surprised.

“Seriously? You’ve been here for five months and you’ve never gone up to San Francisco? Not even once?”

“I’m not exactly on vacation here, jerk. I’m working six days a week and by the time I get to Sunday it's veg-out city and I just lie in bed all day.”

“Now there is a beautiful mental image!”

She gently nudges me in the ribs and the peaceful ease returns. I am still mulling over her self-imposed isolation.

“So your sister comes for a week and you don’t take her anywhere?”

“I didn’t take that week off! I worked that week! Plus, don’t forget, we had some serious business. We had a man to forget about. I didn’t make it in to the office very early that week.”

“I’m sure you were a wonderful influence.”

She giggled inappropriately as she leaned against me. She’d been drinking slowly but steadily since noon and I think the switch to wine and the soothing evening air were making her a little giddy.

“Every single evening we would stuff ourselves until we couldn’t move, then we would drink until we forgot how stuffed we were, and then we would keep right on eating. If that sap of a boyfriend thought she was fat before, I think I sent her home 10 pounds heavier. I told her if he couldn’t stand a few extra pounds, then I knew a real quick way she could lose 180!”

She hiccoughed, giggled again, and looked up at me with poorly focusing eyes.

“You know what else I told her? I told she was better off finding a guy who not only loved her, but melted into mush every time she needed a new pair of larger jeans. She knows they’re out there!”

She had shifted herself so now her body pressed against me, her lips nuzzling into my neck. Despite feeling the heat go to my face as I remembered the Christmas Voyeurism Surprise, her closeness was having the typical effect on me. She put her hand on my crotch, and now her voice rose disturbingly above the evening hush.

“I guess ‘mush’ is the wrong word, isn’t it? How about ‘goes rock hard’?”

I looked around nervously to see if we were drawing anyone’s attention. It didn’t appear so. I replied in a quiet voice, hoping she would reciprocate.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re hoping she gets fat and you’re doing whatever you can to help her get there.”

I needn’t have worried, because she squished into me even more and whispered conspiratorially.

“It sure would be nice to have HER weight take some of the heat at Thanksgiving this year.”

“Then maybe she needs a place to stay for a while after school’s done and she dumps her boyfriend. As I recall, it’s hard work forgetting about a man…”

She leaned back away from me, one hand on my shoulder and the other on my thigh. A stupid grin split her face.

“You are positively evil!... Do you think she’d come?”

“Based on how hard she took it just being called fat, I think the break-up is going to require a level of consoling, guidance, and companionship that only a particular big sister could provide.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re hoping that I get fat right along with her and you’re doing whatever you can to help me get there.”

Her hand on my thigh slid back up to my crotch to find a Coleman pup tent that could sleep eight. She looked down the boulevard and up to the lights on the upper floors of our hotel just down the street. Her eyes came back to my face and she flashed me that wicked, sexy grin.

“It turns me on to see how easily I can manipulate you.”

“I don’t see it as manipulation when I get a reward out of it as well.”

“Play a little game with me tonight and I’ll really make it worth your while.”

She pulled me up off the bench and led me back towards the hotel.

Last edited by Britt Reid; 08-24-2012 at 01:09 PM.
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