~XWG, SSBHM, ~BBW, ~FFA, feeding, stuffing, ~sex, A series of vignettes about how one gainer's unusual household develops.
Chapter 1 - James, June 2008
Before we officially met, I had to get a look at Vivi. Call me a dick--you wouldn't be the first--but I wanted to check if she was cute before we actually spent a whole evening together. Attraction is important to me; it took me until my mid-20s to understand what I was into sexually, I just didn't want to waste any more time.
I can hear you thinking jeez, what is he into? To be blunt, I'm obsessed with fat. For as long as I could remember, I wanted to get really fat, I wanted to make someone else really fat, and maybe do both at the same time. I had yet to find the right woman (well, once, but that's another story), but in the meantime I'd dated a long line of hot, fat girls and indulged the gaining thing in other ways, mostly chatting online with feeders who lived far away and gaining on my own (I was just over 300 pounds by the time Vivi and I hooked up).
We met online, on a feeding-themed message board; she started a thread asking other New Yorkers where to find good steamed pork buns, and she seemed sweet, and her profile identified her as a feeder, so I PMed her.
Vivi told me enough during our brief email correspondence that I was able to figure out that the event-planning/catering studio she worked for was going to be hosting a corporate event at an art space in Park Slope. Perfect. I'd go in, get a peek at her, and sneak back out.
I didn't count on quite how large the gallery would be, or how well-attended the event. It was a cool place, a crumbling old bank building where they'd put up just enough mood lighting to give it a kind of glamour. By the time I arrived, there were easily a hundred people there. At least I could blend into the crowd.
Among the people I could identify as staff, I didn't see anyone matching Vivi's description: 5'6", 250 pounds, pear-shaped, strawberry blonde, gray eyes. I made my way to the unattended bar and was perusing their whiskey selection when a very pretty woman slid behind the bar and said, "Hi there, sorry, we're a little short-staffed, what can I get...oh my god, are you Sully?"
Sully is my screenname--I was completely busted. It was a packed room, I'd been there maybe five minutes, and she'd found me. I wasn't sure how to play this. "And you're...Buttercup?"
She laughed in disbelief, and I marveled at how appealing she was. She had shiny, wavy hair in some kind of updo, and was wearing a sleeveless navy-blue dress that left her plump shoulders and arms bare and framed a canyon of cleavage. "Yes! I had no idea you'd be at this thing! What are the chances?" she bubbled. She had just a little bit of a twangy accent, one of those that surely popped out when she was tired or drunk or excited.
"Yeah, I know!" I agreed. At the time I thought maybe she was just playing along, or teasing me, but years later when I confessed that I'd sought her out that night, she was genuinely surprised and somewhat disappointed--I think she always believed it was fate. "I was supposed to meet my buddy here and just got a message he's not coming," I lied.
"You look just like your picture! God, what a dumb thing to say, Vivi, of course he does," she chided herself. "Seriously, what can I get you to drink, so that I look like I'm working and not just talking your ear off?"
"Ah...Makers, neat," I said. "So is that a good thing, that I look like my picture?" She poured generously and made sure our hands touched when she gave me the glass.
She leaned on the bar. "It's outstanding. It's superb. I realize I should attempt to play it cool here, but you're so attractive that if we weren't short-staffed at this party I'd tell my boss I was sick and drag you out of here right now. Seriously, you're like a big, stocky Bruce Wayne--I mean that as a huge compliment. Hey, what's your real name?"
"James Osborn," I said, shaking her hand. "And you?" I asked.
"Vivian Tillmon, but everyone calls me Vivi," she said. She looked across the room then straightened up. "Aw, hell, I'm already getting the death glare from my boss--I'm going to have to work this thing for another hour or so. See you in a couple days?"
"Or..." I was not prepared to wait two more days. "You could just come to the Batcave after you're done tonight. Uh, I said that because of the Bruce Wayne thing, I don't go around referring to my apartment as the Batcave," I clarified quickly.
She tipped her head and made a little moue with her lips. "We just met--I'm sure you're normal as blueberry pie, but for safety's sake, can we go somewhere public?"
Years of dating in New York had made me uniquely suited for that kind of question. "Absolutely. There's a place really close to here--I'll text you the address--with a very cool rooftop lounge. Want to meet me there when you're done?" I left out that it was a hotel. I left out that I would get a room, just in case.
Two hours later, we sat under the cloudy night sky eating olives and bread. We were close together on an outdoor loveseat, trading confidences.
"So you've dated guys who were bigger than me?" I asked.
"Oh sure, well into the 400s in a couple cases," she said, and as she looked down for a moment, I could see her remembering them.
I lowered my voice. "God, I'd love to be that fat, I'm just at 305 now. You must have loved being with someone that big."
"Ohhhh yeah," she readily admitted. "Well. I mean, I loved how they looked, and felt, and especially enjoyed watching them get fatter once they realized I didn't care how much they ate, that was amazing. But just recently I swore off guys who weren't gainers."
"Really?" I prompted her.
"Mmm..." she mused, "I kind of snapped, actually," she giggled. "I was in the shower with this big guy I'd been seeing for about a month, and he grabs his gut and he's like, 'I've got to get back to the gym, I've put on so much weight since we started dating...' So of course I'm thinking, Vivi, this is your moment! And I say, 'Well that's okay, I really like it...' and he interrupts me with the whole 'Oh you're so sweet to say that, but I need to get in shape....' blah blah blah, and I just felt exhausted that this was happening again. I just wanted to be with someone who was completely sure he wanted to be fat," and she looked me right in the eyes.
"And not just fat, but extremely fat," I added. "Tremendously so."
"Yes," she said, putting one hand on my stomach as she leaned in to press her sublime pink mouth to mine. We pulled back after a long time, a bit dazed, and I realized that her arms were covered with gooseflesh.
"Are you cold?" I asked. It was unseasonably cold for June. She nodded, and I gave her my jacket, and she thanked me and settled it around her shoulders. "I don't want to rush anything here," I said quietly, "But I have a room downstairs. At some point, if you want, we could go talk there, privately."
A slow, delighted smile spread across her face. "So, you're not just big and handsome, you're smooth too," she drawled.
Five minutes later we were in the room, and I was unzipping her dress. It puddled at her feet and I exhaled hard, sliding one hand down the perfect, pale flesh of her back. She turned around and I held her at arm's length for a moment, taking it all in--the big breasts over the pooch of belly, the way her waist bloomed into her broad hips and thighs, the tight band of her panties digging into her soft flesh to create a roll above it--undressing her was like opening a Christmas present. "You're exquisite," I said, and she pulled me to her by the love handles and started to kiss me again.
Vivi pulled my dress shirt free and slid both hands onto my belly. "Ohhh," she breathed, "This is fantastic." She pulled the shirt up to get at my tits, so I just went ahead and took it off. She put one hand on each of them and squeezed. "Mmmm," she said, a deeply satisfied hum that seemed to come from her toes. "Your body is spectacular." I felt relief flood through me--I'd thought that once I decided to gain weight, the anxiety of getting naked with someone for the first time would abate, but it had just evolved to wondering if I was too fat or not fat enough.
In any case, Vivi seemed rapacious as she fumbled with my belt. "God, I'm so excited, I'm all thumbs," she whispered.
I took both of her hands, kissed them, and placed them back on my belly. "I got this," I said, undoing my belt and unbuttoning and unzipping, then kicking my pants off as Vivi rubbed her fingers over my nipples and I grew even harder than I already was. She reached one hand down to my cock and widened her eyes at me.
"Wow, you're...you're really ready," she said breathlessly. So I pulled a maneuver that I admit was honed from practice with other girls--I reached both hands around her ass and hefted her into the air. She squealed from both panic and delight. "James!! Put me down!"
"Yes ma'am," I said, turning and dropping her on the bed. Honestly, I'd lifted girls heavier than Vivi was at the time...it would be unthinkable to lift her now, but that's another story.
I crawled onto the bed, took her bra off, and gaped at her tits. "Jesus," I said, the word bursting out of me unintentionally as I palmed each one, then suckled them. She made a throaty, eager sound that seemed like an excellent sign. I slipped one hand into her panties, knowing I couldn't get them off unless she lifted her prodigious hips off the bed to help me--which she did--and I tossed them on a chair. I put my finger inside her and even though I'd already known she was aroused, was surprised at how wet she was. I lay down beside her and began to stroke her clit with my thumb, and as I did, she reached out and grabbed a handful of my flab and began to knead it.
"You want to get super obese, don't you, James?" she breathed after a few minutes, as she writhed under my touch.
"Its all I want," I murmured.
"Would you get so fat that your belly fat hangs down to your knees?" she asked, her hips beginning to rock.
"I'll get way fatter than that, so humongous that my belly's almost touching my feet when I'm lying down--of course, lying down is all I'll be able to do at that point," I said.
"Nnnngh," she moaned, "How much will you weigh then?"
"Probably half a ton," I said, and to my surprise, that was all it took. With a cry of pleasure, she arched her back and stretched one arm toward the headboard as she climaxed.
I was aching from anticipation, so was extremely glad it only took her a moment to open her eyes and say, "I want you inside me." I knelt between her legs, then guided myself into her, and we both gasped. She pulled her knees up, and I slid in deeper. I found a rhythm, and loved how her breasts jiggled as I pounded into her--god, she was hot. I looked at her and imagined her bringing me trays of food, forcing me to eat every bite of it, making me so corpulent I could barely waddle. I imagined her forcing me to weigh in all the time, calling me her prize hog, reveling in every blubbery pound. And with that I exploded, already so enthralled I couldn't see straight.
Scenes from the Three
by ffaboots
by ffaboots
Chapter 1 - James, June 2008
Before we officially met, I had to get a look at Vivi. Call me a dick--you wouldn't be the first--but I wanted to check if she was cute before we actually spent a whole evening together. Attraction is important to me; it took me until my mid-20s to understand what I was into sexually, I just didn't want to waste any more time.
I can hear you thinking jeez, what is he into? To be blunt, I'm obsessed with fat. For as long as I could remember, I wanted to get really fat, I wanted to make someone else really fat, and maybe do both at the same time. I had yet to find the right woman (well, once, but that's another story), but in the meantime I'd dated a long line of hot, fat girls and indulged the gaining thing in other ways, mostly chatting online with feeders who lived far away and gaining on my own (I was just over 300 pounds by the time Vivi and I hooked up).
We met online, on a feeding-themed message board; she started a thread asking other New Yorkers where to find good steamed pork buns, and she seemed sweet, and her profile identified her as a feeder, so I PMed her.
Vivi told me enough during our brief email correspondence that I was able to figure out that the event-planning/catering studio she worked for was going to be hosting a corporate event at an art space in Park Slope. Perfect. I'd go in, get a peek at her, and sneak back out.
I didn't count on quite how large the gallery would be, or how well-attended the event. It was a cool place, a crumbling old bank building where they'd put up just enough mood lighting to give it a kind of glamour. By the time I arrived, there were easily a hundred people there. At least I could blend into the crowd.
Among the people I could identify as staff, I didn't see anyone matching Vivi's description: 5'6", 250 pounds, pear-shaped, strawberry blonde, gray eyes. I made my way to the unattended bar and was perusing their whiskey selection when a very pretty woman slid behind the bar and said, "Hi there, sorry, we're a little short-staffed, what can I get...oh my god, are you Sully?"
Sully is my screenname--I was completely busted. It was a packed room, I'd been there maybe five minutes, and she'd found me. I wasn't sure how to play this. "And you're...Buttercup?"
She laughed in disbelief, and I marveled at how appealing she was. She had shiny, wavy hair in some kind of updo, and was wearing a sleeveless navy-blue dress that left her plump shoulders and arms bare and framed a canyon of cleavage. "Yes! I had no idea you'd be at this thing! What are the chances?" she bubbled. She had just a little bit of a twangy accent, one of those that surely popped out when she was tired or drunk or excited.
"Yeah, I know!" I agreed. At the time I thought maybe she was just playing along, or teasing me, but years later when I confessed that I'd sought her out that night, she was genuinely surprised and somewhat disappointed--I think she always believed it was fate. "I was supposed to meet my buddy here and just got a message he's not coming," I lied.
"You look just like your picture! God, what a dumb thing to say, Vivi, of course he does," she chided herself. "Seriously, what can I get you to drink, so that I look like I'm working and not just talking your ear off?"
"Ah...Makers, neat," I said. "So is that a good thing, that I look like my picture?" She poured generously and made sure our hands touched when she gave me the glass.
She leaned on the bar. "It's outstanding. It's superb. I realize I should attempt to play it cool here, but you're so attractive that if we weren't short-staffed at this party I'd tell my boss I was sick and drag you out of here right now. Seriously, you're like a big, stocky Bruce Wayne--I mean that as a huge compliment. Hey, what's your real name?"
"James Osborn," I said, shaking her hand. "And you?" I asked.
"Vivian Tillmon, but everyone calls me Vivi," she said. She looked across the room then straightened up. "Aw, hell, I'm already getting the death glare from my boss--I'm going to have to work this thing for another hour or so. See you in a couple days?"
"Or..." I was not prepared to wait two more days. "You could just come to the Batcave after you're done tonight. Uh, I said that because of the Bruce Wayne thing, I don't go around referring to my apartment as the Batcave," I clarified quickly.
She tipped her head and made a little moue with her lips. "We just met--I'm sure you're normal as blueberry pie, but for safety's sake, can we go somewhere public?"
Years of dating in New York had made me uniquely suited for that kind of question. "Absolutely. There's a place really close to here--I'll text you the address--with a very cool rooftop lounge. Want to meet me there when you're done?" I left out that it was a hotel. I left out that I would get a room, just in case.
Two hours later, we sat under the cloudy night sky eating olives and bread. We were close together on an outdoor loveseat, trading confidences.
"So you've dated guys who were bigger than me?" I asked.
"Oh sure, well into the 400s in a couple cases," she said, and as she looked down for a moment, I could see her remembering them.
I lowered my voice. "God, I'd love to be that fat, I'm just at 305 now. You must have loved being with someone that big."
"Ohhhh yeah," she readily admitted. "Well. I mean, I loved how they looked, and felt, and especially enjoyed watching them get fatter once they realized I didn't care how much they ate, that was amazing. But just recently I swore off guys who weren't gainers."
"Really?" I prompted her.
"Mmm..." she mused, "I kind of snapped, actually," she giggled. "I was in the shower with this big guy I'd been seeing for about a month, and he grabs his gut and he's like, 'I've got to get back to the gym, I've put on so much weight since we started dating...' So of course I'm thinking, Vivi, this is your moment! And I say, 'Well that's okay, I really like it...' and he interrupts me with the whole 'Oh you're so sweet to say that, but I need to get in shape....' blah blah blah, and I just felt exhausted that this was happening again. I just wanted to be with someone who was completely sure he wanted to be fat," and she looked me right in the eyes.
"And not just fat, but extremely fat," I added. "Tremendously so."
"Yes," she said, putting one hand on my stomach as she leaned in to press her sublime pink mouth to mine. We pulled back after a long time, a bit dazed, and I realized that her arms were covered with gooseflesh.
"Are you cold?" I asked. It was unseasonably cold for June. She nodded, and I gave her my jacket, and she thanked me and settled it around her shoulders. "I don't want to rush anything here," I said quietly, "But I have a room downstairs. At some point, if you want, we could go talk there, privately."
A slow, delighted smile spread across her face. "So, you're not just big and handsome, you're smooth too," she drawled.
Five minutes later we were in the room, and I was unzipping her dress. It puddled at her feet and I exhaled hard, sliding one hand down the perfect, pale flesh of her back. She turned around and I held her at arm's length for a moment, taking it all in--the big breasts over the pooch of belly, the way her waist bloomed into her broad hips and thighs, the tight band of her panties digging into her soft flesh to create a roll above it--undressing her was like opening a Christmas present. "You're exquisite," I said, and she pulled me to her by the love handles and started to kiss me again.
Vivi pulled my dress shirt free and slid both hands onto my belly. "Ohhh," she breathed, "This is fantastic." She pulled the shirt up to get at my tits, so I just went ahead and took it off. She put one hand on each of them and squeezed. "Mmmm," she said, a deeply satisfied hum that seemed to come from her toes. "Your body is spectacular." I felt relief flood through me--I'd thought that once I decided to gain weight, the anxiety of getting naked with someone for the first time would abate, but it had just evolved to wondering if I was too fat or not fat enough.
In any case, Vivi seemed rapacious as she fumbled with my belt. "God, I'm so excited, I'm all thumbs," she whispered.
I took both of her hands, kissed them, and placed them back on my belly. "I got this," I said, undoing my belt and unbuttoning and unzipping, then kicking my pants off as Vivi rubbed her fingers over my nipples and I grew even harder than I already was. She reached one hand down to my cock and widened her eyes at me.
"Wow, you're...you're really ready," she said breathlessly. So I pulled a maneuver that I admit was honed from practice with other girls--I reached both hands around her ass and hefted her into the air. She squealed from both panic and delight. "James!! Put me down!"
"Yes ma'am," I said, turning and dropping her on the bed. Honestly, I'd lifted girls heavier than Vivi was at the time...it would be unthinkable to lift her now, but that's another story.
I crawled onto the bed, took her bra off, and gaped at her tits. "Jesus," I said, the word bursting out of me unintentionally as I palmed each one, then suckled them. She made a throaty, eager sound that seemed like an excellent sign. I slipped one hand into her panties, knowing I couldn't get them off unless she lifted her prodigious hips off the bed to help me--which she did--and I tossed them on a chair. I put my finger inside her and even though I'd already known she was aroused, was surprised at how wet she was. I lay down beside her and began to stroke her clit with my thumb, and as I did, she reached out and grabbed a handful of my flab and began to knead it.
"You want to get super obese, don't you, James?" she breathed after a few minutes, as she writhed under my touch.
"Its all I want," I murmured.
"Would you get so fat that your belly fat hangs down to your knees?" she asked, her hips beginning to rock.
"I'll get way fatter than that, so humongous that my belly's almost touching my feet when I'm lying down--of course, lying down is all I'll be able to do at that point," I said.
"Nnnngh," she moaned, "How much will you weigh then?"
"Probably half a ton," I said, and to my surprise, that was all it took. With a cry of pleasure, she arched her back and stretched one arm toward the headboard as she climaxed.
I was aching from anticipation, so was extremely glad it only took her a moment to open her eyes and say, "I want you inside me." I knelt between her legs, then guided myself into her, and we both gasped. She pulled her knees up, and I slid in deeper. I found a rhythm, and loved how her breasts jiggled as I pounded into her--god, she was hot. I looked at her and imagined her bringing me trays of food, forcing me to eat every bite of it, making me so corpulent I could barely waddle. I imagined her forcing me to weigh in all the time, calling me her prize hog, reveling in every blubbery pound. And with that I exploded, already so enthralled I couldn't see straight.
