A Lot Can Change- by CylonBob (BBW, Weight Gain, Stuffing)

Discussion in 'Special Interests Archive' started by Cylon_bob, Dec 13, 2013.

  1. Dec 13, 2013 #1

    Cylon_bob

    Cylon_bob

    Cylon_bob

    Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Nov 24, 2011
    Messages:
    169
    Likes Received:
    4
    Location:
    ,
    It's common knowledge that when girls go off to college, there's a tendency to gain a little weight, maybe a lot if they're taking a lot of classes or go to a school with a particularly good cafeteria. It's also common knowledge that a lot of women discover themselves when they're on their own for the first time. They come back a different woman than they were in high school.

    Today, those points were driven home for me in a big way, pun intended.
    _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
    It started this morning when I got a text from a girl I knew in high school, by the name of Caitlyn Chase. I remembered her pretty well. She was a bit of a party girl, pretty popular, kind of a showboat, very proud of how curvy her body was. Our social circles couldn't have been further apart, but we were lab partners first semester of senior year. Wouldn't say we became best friends, but we got to know each other pretty well.

    She was really an attractive girl back then, in most every way, don't get me wrong, but I like my woman a little larger than the average man, and by 'a little,' I mean way fatter. Caitlyn wasn't a stick by any means. I say she was proud of her curvy body, and she had every right to be proud of it. She had a pretty face, a soft but slim waistline, and a disproportionately fat behind, which made up a bit for being so slender everywhere else. I like a girl with a big butt, but she was still at least twenty, thirty pounds too thin for my liking. Potential was there, though.

    It was a pretty simple text, just a 'hey, I just moved into my new apartment, here's the address, why don't you come over it's been a while' kind of thing, and I wasn't sure I was going to do it at first, it sounded like a mass text she probably had sent out to her entire contacts list, and frankly, the people she hung out with in high school were a bunch of assholes.

    Then I thought about how big her appetite was in high school. A girl who ate as heartily as she did back then had a high probability for some freshman year expansion. I decided I might as well; I had no real plans for the afternoon anyway.

    So there I am, a little after twelve, walking up to Caitlyn’s door, expecting a woman who looked more or less like the girl I graduated with, maybe with the freshman 15 rounding out her already generous bottom half.

    I knock, the door opens, and for a second, I literally did not recognize the woman standing in front of me. I was expecting a bottom-heavy little bimbo who clearly had potential to pork out. The woman in the doorway was definitely bottom-heavy, but less a 'bimbo' than a blimp. I just kind of stared at the luxurious figure of the woman in front of me for a few seconds. I scanned her sizable form, and then finally managed to tear my eyes away from her body to notice the face.

    I think my jaw might have dropped a little bit. It was rounder, definitely, there was a double chin happening, but the nose was the same, the same plump, pink lips, and the same pale skin that I remembered. This was a new and improved version of the almost-but-not-quite-slim girl with the big butt I went to school with, a much-expanded Caitlyn. She went in for a hug, and as my hands sunk into her soft sides, I had to wonder what the story was here.

    She let go and backed a few steps and I got a good look at how the last year had enhanced her charms, by which I mean 'made her ass massive.' If I had to guess, she'd packed on a minimum of fifty pounds, which on her 5'3 frame was impressive. And those fifty+ pounds spread themselves out so wonderfully! To clarify. . . ‘dat ass.

    More than the ass, though. In high school, that's where she stored all those extra plates of food she'd eat at lunch, but college had overloaded Caitlyn's insane genetic tendencies. There were boobs now, and a nice chubby tummy.

    She was dressed almost like she was trying to emphasize to her unfit physique! It looked like she'd tried to dress up nice for people coming over, picked out some nice clothes, started putting them on, then just gave up because it was a lost cause.

    She had on a button-up top with the top three buttons undone, showing off what had to be at least two more cup sizes worth of cleavage, and that made sense, she'd want to show off her tits. But she also had left the bottom button undone. The next up looked like it was hanging on for dear life. A flabby belly hung out below the blouse, flowing out over a pair of unzipped, skin-tight khakis.

    She had this amused look on her face, like she knew what I was thinking, but all she said was “Well? Coming in David?”

    I stuttered a bit, “Now? Aren't there other people coming?”

    “No, silly, just you!”

    “Oh. M'kay.” I was still in shock; that was the most eloquent thing I could say. I just nodded numbly and followed her into the foyer of her apartment. She stopped after a few steps and turned around to look at me, an expectant look on her face. Oh right, I’m supposed to interact with her, not ogle her. I gathered my wits. Small talk time. “You’re, uh, looking good these days, Caitlyn. College must be treating you well.”

    She rolled her eyes, “” I know, right, turning into a total whale has done me so much good!”

    She brought it up, and shit, I couldn’t deny it, she’d got HUGE in the past year! I could understate her gain, though, milk her for details, “”Uh, yeah, you've gained the freshman 15, but it's not so bad; it happens to loads of girls every year, and none of them carry it as well as you.”

    She rolled her eyes and responded in a sarcastic tone, “Ah, yes, the infamous freshman 15. I’d gained that by. . . I think the end of September?” She reached her hand down to unbutton that second to last bottom button on her blouse, and sighed in relief when it was undone, “Then I kept going. Don’t even try and lie because I know you see it.” She paused and looked at me, a half smile on her rounded face, “Anyone ever told you that you’re a shitty liar?” It got a weird feeling as she talked; it didn’t sound at all like she was upset about it. Actually, it was almost like she was. . . proud?

    “It doesn’t matter how much you gained; you carry it well, and I mean it;” I wasn't sure she needed reassurance though. I hesitated to ask, but, “You uh. . . You don’t really seem upset or anything?”

    “Noticed that, did you? Honestly, I’m fine with it all. I mean, 90% of it goes straight here,” she twisted and slapped her ass. I definitely heard a few of those over-stressed seams popping as a wave of jiggles reverberating across her blubbery bottom. Who can blame them, she looked like she'd been poured into those khakis. “And I can live with the rest. It's not all bad.” she grinned and squeezed her arms together, forcing her cleavage up, “I got boobs!” She shrugged with a smile, “If I gotta get fat to get tits, then hello obesity.” Obesity, yeah, I got the distinct feeling she was a step or two past that stage of fatness.

    “So it just kind of happened? Getting fat. You didn’t make any huge changes, you just suddenly started gaining weight for no apparent reason?” I was probing for details.

    “Uh, hello? Have you SEEN me? Do you have any memory of me from high school? A girl doesn’t go from looking like that “ she grabbed a jelly roll and shook it, “to this level of sexy without a few changes in her diet!”

    “So what happened?”

    “So I don't know if you remember this from high school, but I love to eat. A lot.” She shifted her weight, and took a breath. I got the sense she was settling in for a long story, “I’m up at college, and obviously I go for whatever meal plan gets me the most food. I'm going to the cafeteria three or four times every day and eating like a pig,and that on its own is enough for most girls to gain their fifteen pounds. Then, adding on to that, my plan gave me a bunch of ‘block’ meals. Basically, I could go to any restaurant on campus, order whatever, tell them it’s on block, they swipe my ID and hey, free fast food!”

    Her smile got bigger, “Let me give you an example of what I mean. There was a Dunkin’ Donuts right by my dorm.” She cocked her head and winked at me, “You see where this is going, don't you? It was right on the way to my 7AM class, and since 7AM is WAY too early to go to the cafeteria, I’d just pop in and grab a dozen donuts on my way to class!” A dozen every day? That was. . . hard to believe.

    She must have sensed my doubt because she clarified, “I didn't actually eat the entire dozen, I shared whatever I didn't eat with the teacher! She was usually a bit late, which gave me more time to eat donuts, which meant my happy tummy mysteriously got bigger and softer through the year!" She laughed, "The teacher did, too, not like me, but you could definitely see it! So I did what I could to help the poor lady, and by ‘did what I could,’ I mean I ate as many of the donuts as I could so she wouldn’t have to.” She giggled, “Aren’t I a good Samaritan?”

    I reached out and grabbed a hunk of exposed belly flesh hanging out under her blouse, “So you’re saying this is all donuts?”

    “Most of it, yeah, probably, but you can’t blame it ALL on that.” She set her hands on her stomach and started going through her daily schedule, “Let's see. I had the donuts before my first class, but a healthy breakfast is extremely important, and a half a dozen donuts isn't exactly ‘healthy.’ I'm a health nut, as you can see, so I had to get a second breakfast in the dining hall. Then there was lunch and dinner, which were amazing. I don’t know if you know this, but my school prides itself on the ice cream they make on campus, and I've eaten quite a bit of ice cream in my day, so I’m qualified to say they should be proud!”

    She cocked her head to the side like she was still thinking about how much else she had, “Then there was my roommate. Poor girl didn’t have any kind of meal plan, so she cooked for herself. She was a culinary major, so she was always practicing cooking huge meals, but she didn't actually eat very much, so she always complained how she had too much food. Me, being the fantastic and charitable glutton that I am, volunteered to eat whatever was left! Half the time, I ended up so full I couldn't even move. The food was amazing, though, totally worth a few hours stuck in a chair, though. Only annoying thing was, she'd cook all this at night,and wouldn't tell me she was doing it, so sometimes I’d go to dinner, stuff myself, walk my fat ass back to the room, and then she’d be all, “Here’s eight servings of spaghetti carbonara, and a homemade strawberry cheesecake for dessert!’ and I’d just be like, ugh, here we go again. . .”

    “But you'd eat it all anyway?.” She grimaced, but nodded. I broke down her daily diet, counting off every step with my fingers, “So. . . on a daily basis, you were eating most of a dozen donuts for breakfast, then having a SECOND breakfast, then going to lunch and dinner and eating a bunch of ice cream with that, then sometimes, you’d go back to your room and your roommate would have a whole ‘nother meal for you to cram into your stomach?”

    “By the end of the year, yeah. I couldn't eat nearly that much when I first got there, but I worked up to that over time.” She fondled her stomach fondly, “My tummy stretched out as time went on.” she slapped it, and it jiggled beautifully, “Getting fatter will do that, surprisingly enough! There was all that, and then there was all the snacking. I had all those block meals, so I used them!”

    I shrugged, “yeah. . . I guess you could gain a little weight eating like that.” Understatement. You could run six marathons every day and still gain weight eating like that. Which begs the question, “Were you doing any kind of exercise during all this? Like, walking to classes maybe?”

    “Oh yeah! As you can see by my peak physical condition, physical fitness is a top-priority for me! I walked all the way to my classes. Let me tell you, those three blocks just kept getting longer and longer as the year went by! Some kind of black magic, I'll reckon!”

    She raised an eyebrow, “Have you met me? I am one of the laziest people you will ever meet!”

    She paused and ran her hands along her soft body, caressing it gently, lovingly almost. “Besides, I really don't want to lose weight. Bigger I get, the hotter I am!” With pride in her voice, she bragged, “Ain’t no other girl around can say she got an ass more than fifty inches and a waist less than thirty!” I looked at her stomach, bulging out over her unbuttoned trousers. Yeah, that was 30 inches, for sure.

    I raised my eyebrow, “Uh, have You measured lately? Less than thirty?”

    She scrunched up her face, “I measured last month. Twenty-nine and a half inch waist, technically, that's less than thirty!”

    “You got a measuring tape around? You might have gained a little since then.”

    “It’s in the bathroom.” She turned, “This way.” I followed her into the next room, where she turned again, opening the door to a small bathroom. I say ‘small,' but that just means that with a wide load like Caitlyn in there, I couldn’t fit. She grabbed a tape measure from the counter, turned around, “Hey, could you move real quick, I’m too cramped in here to measure.” I stepped to the side, and she commented, “That bathroom obviously wasn’t designed with women like me in mind!”

    I grinned, “Women like you?”

    She laughed, “Those of us with hugely fat-asses.”

    She walked out into the middle of the room and wrapped the tape around her huge, but perfectly formed bubble butt, then pulled it up to see the result. A slightly concerned look crossed her face, “It must have had some slack or something, let me try again. . .”I don’t know what it said, but looking at those meaty buns of hers, I doubted she was any thinner than what that tape said. She tried again, this time asking, “Is it tight?” I nodded, and she looked at the numbers. She looked kinda disappointed as she reported, “54 inches, that’s one bigger than last time.”

    I was a bit confused, “Isn’t that a good thing? Your ass just got bigger; isn’t that the whole point of all that eating you’ve been doing?”

    She shrugged, “Fatter ass means a fatter tummy. I was ALMOST thirty inches before, it’s definitely more than that now. Well,” resignedly, “Let’s see how much more!” she wrapped the tape around her middle, and. . . “Damn, 32. This is a whole new level of fatness.” A resigned shrug, “Ah well, had to happen eventually.” She sunk her finger into her spare tire, “If this is the price I pay for tits and an ass this hot,” She twisted her torso to get a better look at the shelf sticking out behind her, “I'm okay with it.” She looked at me, “Come on, I’m getting sick of standing.” With that, she turned and walked off.
     
  2. Dec 13, 2013 #2

    Cylon_bob

    Cylon_bob

    Cylon_bob

    Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Nov 24, 2011
    Messages:
    169
    Likes Received:
    4
    Location:
    ,
    I followed Caitlyn as she walked through her apartment, paying no attention to where we were going. It was her ass. That thing was entrancing; the two gelatinous globes of fat, undulating, supported by her two thick, thunderous thighs, rubbing together with every step, turning her walk into a waddle. When I say I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings, I mean it; she could literally have been walking me through an active crime scene and I wouldn’t have noticed.

    Case in point, when she stopped and turned around, she had a box of donuts in her hands. Apparently we went through a kitchen? “Sorry for that little detour, it’s just that all that talking about how big a fatty I am made me hungry and I wanted to finish off this box.” She pulled out a jelly-filled and took a big bite out of it. Then she covered her mouth with her hand and said, “You don’t mind, do you?” Well, no I don’t, but you’re already halfway through that one, so it doesn’t really matter now does it?

    “Nah, go ahead and eat.” She was going to, anyway, and it was fun to watch, honestly.

    “Thanks. I'm friggin' starving!”

    “Yeah, you're wasting away over there. Good breeze could carry you off, you twig.”

    She smiled and covered her mouth again to avoid spraying her surroundings with donut, "That's why I like you. You're a sarcastic little shit and you appreciate a curvy girl with a healthy appetite!” Honestly, that's as accurate a description of me as any.

    I wouldn't call what Caitlyn has a healthy appetite, though. It was a bit beyond that. “Always willing to poke fun at you for getting fat.” I prodded her pudgy tummy, “Which you have.” I stepped back and raised my eyebrow, “Like I said, almost every girl comes back after their first year of college looking a little chubby, but you come back looking like a human-shaped lump of jell-o in pants!” She grinned and shoved another donut, whole, into her mouth. I paused at this point and gathered the courage to ask straight up what she'd been strongly hinting at this entire time

    “So. . . Are you, you know. . . actively trying to get fat?” I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear her say it.

    She raised an eyebrow, “Did you seriously just figure it out? I've been bragging this whole time about how fat I am!”

    “I guessed.” I paused, “Did no one ever ask why you were eating like you what you described?” I figured someone must have.

    “Oh yeah, my whole group of friends did at one time or another.” She laughed, “It was funny because most of them still hung out with me after that and they all porked out!”

    “Fat by default, that is awesome. Like, how fat are we talking?”

    “Not fat like me, just like, the freshman fifteen plus their ten friends. They just usually ate whenever I was eating around them. I'd be sitting in the dorms, feel kinda hungry, 'hey, let's order pizza!' We'd order a bunch of pizzas and pig out. Fast-forward thirty, forty-five minutes; 'Hey I'm hungry again, let's go to Burger King!' Then they'd be like 'oh no we couldn't possibly,' then they'd just come with me and get a burger and fries.”

    She paused, “I think. . . aside from me, my friend Jess gained the most. She was this skinny little slip of a girl at first who exploded into this extreme hourglass shape. Ridiculous curves. She gained probably like forty pounds over the course of the year.”

    She jumped excitedly like she'd just remembered something, “Ooh! One of my friends, Raina; she texted me the other day, said she's moving nearby! You're in Jefferson Row, right? Yeah, she's in like, the next building over; you gotta meet her! She's really interesting, I'll tell you about her sometime. Anyway, she gained about thirty pounds, all in the tits.”

    “You'll have to tell me about all your friends sometime, they sound pretty interesting!” By which I was really saying, 'Let's get off of these girls I don't know and back to how fat you've gotten.' “So you went to school and decided to get fat?”

    “Oh no, I started way before then. Last winter, just before Thanksgiving, as soon as I turned 18. I actually kept records of my measurements until I left home, wanna see?” Oh yes, I'd love to see how much damage she'd done to her figure in the last year and a half.

    I nodded, and she jerked her head towards the door, indicating I should follow her. It was a short walk this time, but fun. “So these records, you keep them in here somewhere?” I looked around her room. It was messy, clothes thrown all over.

    “Sorry about the mess, I had some difficulty this morning finding clothes I could squash this big booty into. Normally, I wear sweatpants, but I spilled spaghetti on them last night and haven't washed them.” She got straight to business, “The notebook should be. . . Yeah, when I was keeping the notebook, I shoved it under the bed so my parents wouldn't find it and be all 'Oh, no, our poor daughter is destined for a life of being a gigantic blob we must put her on a diet!' When I moved in here, I just stuck it there out of habit.” She bent down as far as she could at the waist, grunting at the effort, “Oomph, I kind of, ugh, regret that right now!”

    Her blubbery stomach prevented her from bending down very far, but it was far enough that the seam of her pants finally gave up, ripping at the seams, exposing Caitlyn's expansive backside to the world. I didn't say anything, just kind of stood there, gawking at the blubbery buns before me, barely covered by an inadequate pair of blue silk panties. She straightened up immediately, wide-eyed and smiling, “Whoops!” She seemed surprised, but relieved, “Haaah, that's better! Stupid pants were cutting off my circulation!” She grinned, “You don't mind if I just rip them off for the rest of the time you're here, do you?” Hmm, let me think, was I okay with that? Such a difficult decision!

    I tried to hide my enthusiasm, though. Didn't want to creep her out. “Nah, go ahead.”

    And she did. She didn't just pull them off; she made a show of it, grabbing ahold of the failed seams and pulling them apart, tearing them wider. when they were completely destroyed, she tossed the tattered remains in my direction. “God, I love it when that happens! It's like a sign I'm doing it right!” She fiddled with the buttons on her shirt,which, I noticed, were stretched tighter than ever, due to donuts. Hesitantly and with a note of unsureness in her voice, she asked, “What about. . . Would you mind if I just took the shirt off, too? It would be a huge relief.”

    “Whatever makes you feel better.” There was no show with this one, she just seemed desperate to get free of that restricting top.

    She was now completely exposed in front of me, her thick thighs on display and her . I looked at her expectantly, and after a second, she remembered. “Oh right,” she said, “That notebook, it's somewhere down. . .” she got down on her knees, and for a second, I marveled at the way her backside, sticking proudly into the air, and her exposed belly hung down below. The view changed as she flattened herself against the floor, reaching far under the bed, her flabby body spreading wider as she pressed down against it, “HERE!”

    She struggled to squirm out, then when she finally managed it, she sat up and smirked, “You know what,” She put on the drawl of a distressed Southern belle, “Mah word, It's just hitting me, it's frightfully embarassin', tearing my pants open like that! Mah emotions are all a tizzy! I really must gorge mahself on junk food, like Twinkies and ice cream, to distract mahself from how terribly I've let my gawgeous figure go! Oh, I'm so distraught, I couldn't bear to get it myself, so please, kind sir, could you go over to that closet?” She pointed to a door along the far wall.

    I walked over, opened the door and my god, that was the biggest stockpile of Hostess and Little Debby snack cakes I have ever seen in my entire life. Floor to ceiling, box after box. I just kind of stared in awe for a second, but she called out, bringing me back to the world, “Twinkies, please!”

    I grabbed a box and tossed it in her lap (an easy target!) as I passed by on my way to the kitchen.

    In the kitchen, I went straight for the freezer, since, you know, where the heck else would the ice cream be? I wasn't expecting there to be to be a five different flavors. It was easy choosing one, I just had to see which had the most. . .Haagan-Dazs it is, then!

    I paused. I didn't know where she kept the spoons. I opened a drawer at random, and there they were, a shining beacon indicating that this indulgence was meant to be.

    I walked back in the bedroom, carrying my prize, a full pint of chocolate peanut butter ice cream. “Here you go, milady!”

    She didn't answer me, just gulped the last of a Twinkie, ripped the top off the ice cream, and dug in with the passion of a starving person.

    I grabbed the notebook from where I had tossed it as I left for ice cream. I sat down and opened to page 1. I looked at the neatly laid out page, divided into three spaces; in the center, a small square made note of the date, November 18th, her measurements, and at the bottom, she'd made a few notes, and in the top space. . . “Hey, you didn't say you put pictures in here, too!” She was busy stuffing herself, lost in the consumption of calories, so I couldn't do a proper 'side-by-side' comparison. I didn't even look at the pictures. I wanted to be surprised.

    A few minutes later, I heard Caitlyn groaning, “Ooomph, I ate too much!” I look down and she's still spooning ice cream from the carton to her mouth.

    “That should be present tense, no? You're eating too much. And you keep going, so obviously it can't be that bad!”

    She swallowed hard, “Easy for YOU to say. I've been doing this so long it's just instinct! I got food in my hands, I eat it!” Another spoonful, “Oooomph, though, If I keep going. I'm gonna explode.”

    "Well then, just hand it here!" She was going to have to hand it off.

    "And let you eat it all?" Shoving a particularly large spoonful into her mouth, she moaned, “Mmmmph, this is all going straight to my ass!" another spoonful, moaned in pain and rubbed her stomach, "God, the things I do to destroy my figure.”

    “Okay, I'll do it,” I stood up and held my hand out to take the carton. Caitlyn shoved a quick spoonful into her mouth, and from the sound she made, regretted it, and reluctantly handed me her precious ice cream
     
  3. Dec 13, 2013 #3

    Cylon_bob

    Cylon_bob

    Cylon_bob

    Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Nov 24, 2011
    Messages:
    169
    Likes Received:
    4
    Location:
    ,
    I ran it back to the kitchen, threw it in the freezer and came back to see Caitlyn whining in discomfort, rubbing her belly to try and relieve some pressure. I grinned as I grabbed the notebook and plopped myself next to this shapely goddess. “So then!” flipping the notebook open to page 1, “Let's see how far you've come!”

    I read out loud, “November 18th, Measurements are 32B – 24 – 39.” I glanced at the woman next to me, remembering the 54” butt we'd measured earlier, nearly 15 inches bigger. Then I moved to the paragraph she'd written at the bottom, which looked to be some kind of log explaining what she was doing.

    It wasn't very long, “I've had this idea for a while now, but I made the decision to wait until my eighteenth birthday to go for it. Today is my birthday and I will, from now on, eat as much junk food as I can and avoid all exercise in hopes of gaining weight, making my posterior even bigger. Every two weeks, I will measure myself, breast-waist-hips, photograph myself from the front, sides and rear, then recording the results in this notebook. I will make notes in the bottom space as well detailing any issues I'm finding or milestones I have achieved.”

    After I finished I had to laugh at how it was worded, “What, were you trying to do it like a science fair project or something?”

    She laughed too, “I loosened up as I kept going, like, look here,” She flipped a few pages and stopped, pointing at the words. I read out loud, “Gaining isn't going as fast as I'd like-”

    Caitlyn stopped me, “It took me a while to really start piling it on; I didn't really expect that. Go on!”

    I started where I had left off, “An exciting thing happened; I found a Baskin-Robbins right near to my friend Katherine's house. She's a fat girl; I'd guess she has at least thirty or forty pounds on me, for now anyway. She eats a lot, so it shouldn't take be hard to get her to take me there! She's a good influence for me. I figure, any girl who's ass pours off the sides of the cafeteria chairs and isn't trying to lose weight is a good influence.”

    She laughed, “I remember that! Me and Katherine ended up going to that Baskin-Robbins so much they knew us by name and exactly what we wanted, it was awesome! Katherine stopped going with me by the end of the semester, something about 'gaining eight pounds already and she didn't want to get too fat,' whatever that's about!”

    A few pages later, Caitlyn stopped and this one Caitlyn read, “Outgrew my last belt today. Really do not want to replace it, but my stupid school requires their students to wear belts. So here I go, getting a new one. Definitely getting a long one with room to grow. I felt good this morning, when I realized I couldn't buckle it anymore, but the past few weeks, it was on the last hole, and I undid it every time I went to lunch. Plenty of teachers told me off about it, but I didn't really care. Technically I was wearing a belt, so it wasn't like they could give me detention!”

    Up to this point, I had been consciously avoiding the top box of the page, but it the urge to peek was getting unbearable. “Caitlyn. . . how are you digesting, you think you'd feel up to standing up so I can compare how you started to where you are now?”

    Hesitantly, “Maybe. . .” She tried to sit up more? There was a grunt of effort a lack of movement, then she fell back, breathing heavily, “Whew. . . Not. . . on my own.” She put her hand over her heaving chest, “A little bit too full and a whole lot too fat. I could do it if you helped me up.”

    I would do a lot to see the comparison between this hippopotamus in front of me and the girl I remembered her being at 18, so I stood up and offered my arm. She wasn't much help to me picking her up, so it was. . . difficult. But I managed. I stepped back and held up the notebook.

    I flipped back to the first entry, where there were three photos, a frontal view, a profile shot, and from behind. I started with barely-eighteen Caitlyn's frontal photo, examining the picture in detail, noting her small, B-cup breasts and her soft, very untoned tummy, which was just barely pooching over her thong panties. And just as I remembered, she abruptly stopped being thin immediately below her midriff, where her hips jutted out, 38” to that 25” waist.

    Now to compare with the nineteen and a half year old version of Caitlyn. Her B-cups were replaced with C's, and her trim middle with a thick, solid stomach, swollen by an excess of fat and food. I remembered how she'd measured her waist before at 32”. Well, she'd eaten herself into a much rounder figure since then. It bulged out, spherical, her thick arms wrapping around it protectively, her chubby fingers massaging the pain away. The morbidly obese body in front of me looked like an exaggerated caricature, a grotesque mockery of the slightly overweight, but very shapely woman in the photo. “Could you uh, turn to the side now?”

    She shuffled around and the changes were even more distinct. The girl in the picture had a thick-yet-firm bubble butt sticking out a few inches behind her, but that firmness was a thing of the past. Her bulging but solid buns had been replaced with huge globes of gelatinous flab, forming a shelf you could have balanced a glass of water on. Her chunky thighs were as thick as pillars. I was tempted slightly to get some water to see if you actually could balance it on that booty, but I'd have to walk away from this glorious sight. Not something I was willing to do.

    “Now,” I coughed a bit, “the back please?”

    She obliged and I got a surprise. This woman's posterior was big, we've established that, I think, but as huge and flabby as it was, there was only a minimum of cellulite. A few dimples, of course, but for the most part, there were just acres and acres of smooth, cushy rump-flesh staring me in the face. That was all this massive bottom before me had in common with the picture in the book. That big, but firm bottom was all but gone, replaced by two huge fleshy cheeks that all but swallowed the blue underwear that was meant to provide some cover for them.

    Eighteen year old Caitlyn had a smooth waistline, just-barely bulging over the sides in the tiniest of muffin tops, but no significant chub, no rolls. Current Caitlyn had rolls, two big ones and a host of small ones blinking in and out of existence every time she shifted. Her bra clearly cut deep ridges into the fat at her sides, and below that, she had an impressive spare tire pouring out all around, marshmallow-y bulges of blubber hanging off to the sides.

    “Okay, you can sit down now, I've seen all I needed to see.”

    Caitlyn twisted around and collapsed backwards, her full weight hitting the bed at once, which complained loudly. She stretched out, resting her head against the wall and let out a heavy sigh, “So? Doctor? What's the diagnosis?”

    “Well, Caitlyn, you have become what we in the medical community call goddamn humongous.” She laughed. “I believe the common expression for what has happened here goes something like this, 'Oh my god, she got so fat, how could anyone get so fat so fast, what did she do, lay around eating buckets of lard all day!'”

    She reached over and pinched my cheek, “Flattery will get you anywhere.” Then, for the first time since I'd taken her ice cream, Caitlyn stopped rubbing her stomach, and began admiring and squeezing her fat thighs, smiling as she did so.

    I took this pause in our banter to ask something I'd been wondering since she'd admitted what she was doing, “So. . . you told me what you're doing, but you didn't really tell me. . . What made you decided to do it?”

    She laughed, “All natural ass implants, brought to you by fast food and laziness!” Then her smile dropped a little bit and she sighed. The smile was replaced by a serious look.

    I'm not entirely sure what brought on the sudden stop to the joking around, but it was clearly over. “Nah, but really,” she paused, and a doubtful look crossed her pretty face, like she was reconsidering what she was about to say. After a second, she sighed heavily and lowered her voice, “I haven't actually told anyone this before. . . It's just. . .I really do like being fat and getting fatter. It just. . . it feels good! I'm a freak, I know, but, right now, I'm too stuffed to move and I just tore open my khakis, but. . .” She lowered her voice even more, like she didn't want anybody to hear her admitting this, “Most girls would hate it, I know most guys would be disgusted by it, but honestly, I. . . I feel sexier than ever.” Her head lowered a bit more, “It's. . .It's kinda. . . kind of a turn-on. . .” Her face flushed a deep red, and she looked at me like she was afraid I was about to run out of their screaming. That's not what I did.

    On an impulse, I grabbed Caitlyn, pulled her closer. I was nervous. This was where everything could go to shit. Hoping for the best, I closed my eyes and went in for the kiss. Immediately, my worries drained away. She was warm, inviting, and I kind of hoped it would go on forever.

    It didn't though. After a few seconds, she pulled away, smiling. “I've been waiting for that all night.”

    “It's why I invited you in the first place.” Her hands moved down to her now mostly-deflated stomach and started playing, “I mean, you're cute, and I knew you liked this kinda thing, so I thought maybe. . .”

    “Wait. . . What do you mean, 'you knew I liked this kinda stuff?'”

    “You like fat chicks, and you like when they get fatter,” I was confused. My face must have shown it because she explained, “What, you thought no one knew? Everyone knew. You're not exactly James Bond, you know!” She laughed.

    Her behavior this whole day suddenly made so much more sense. Her openness about her gain, the way she'd made such a show of the measuring, the eating, in this context, I got it. She was showing off for my sake.

    I didn't really know what to say to that, “So. . .” I thought about how to phrase what I wanted to ask next. “So what is it you want me to do? Stuff you like a thanksgiving turkey?”

    “Oh, no, why on earth would I want that, it would put this lithe figure in jeopardy!” She rolled her eyes, then in a seductive voice, “I've spent all day showing you how quickly I can get super-fat on my own, now why don't we do an experiment and find out how huge you can make me? Get my drift?”

    I got her drift. “I should warn you, dating me often has an effect on a woman's figure. How would you feel if you woke up one morning in the near future, got up and you couldn't see your feet?”

    “Exactly the same as I do every morning, what you think I am, only a little bit overweight? I'm insulted, sir, I've worked hard, spent many hours laying on the couch eating ridiculous amounts of junk food to get this sexy!”

    “That's my standard example. How about this on- how would you feel if you bought two seats on an airplane, sat so each cheek took up a whole seat, and your ass was still hanging out in the aisle?”

    Caitlyn squirmed where she was sitting, “Mmf, you trying to make me horny, because it's working!”

    “So you want me to get some food, maybe order some pizza, and stuff you right now?”

    “No. . . That's second date material, I think. I mean the 'you feeding me,' not the getting pizza, I'm up for that, extra large supreme!”

    Literally, this was my dream girl. She'd been snacking all day, but she still wanted pizza . I looked at her stomach, swollen as it was with food, and doubted she could possibly manage this, but I can dream. I made the call, added a small personal pizza for me, and thirty minutes later, it was meal-time.

    I brought it in without saying a word. She was leaned up against the wall, barely moved since I'd ordered the pizza. I just walked up, set set the box on her exposed belly and sat next to her.

    She didn't say anything, just squealed as she opened the box and dug in voraciously. She was like a starved animal, the way she ate that pizza, sloppy, focused on nothing but eating, bits of sausage, slices of peppers dropping into her cleavage, where she wouldn't hesitate to dig them out and gobble them down.

    Slowly, the pizza disappeared, and slowly, as she crammed piece after piece of pizza down her throat, her middle inflated bigger and bigger and bigger, reaching the size it had been earlier today and surpassing it. All of a sudden, she stopped, her eyes glazed over. There was half of one piece left over, and I doubted she could do it. She was looking huge right then, and she didn't seem able to form coherent words, just groan in discomfort.

    I reached over and began to rub her rock-hard stomach, softly at first, then steadily increasing the pressure while Caitlyn moaned in pleasure. I had an idea. I had seen some soda in the fridge in the kitchen, and I left Caitlyn for a second, despite her protestations. I came back with a 2-liter Coke. “Here, take a big gulp of this, it'll help.” She opened her mouth, but only took a quick swig before closing her mouth, causing a bit of coke to splash down onto her exposed breasts. “No, a big gulp. Maybe a couple. It'll make you burp, release some gas in your stomach, make some space.”

    She put her mouth on the top again, and I leaned the bottle back, and this time, she took big gulps. I set the bottle to the side and began massaging her, pressing deep into the unforgiving surface. A few seconds later, a huge burp came from above, success!

    Or. . . maybe not. For a second, she seemed relieved, but that didn't last long. A little later, she looked to be even more uncomfortable than before, and her stomach seemed a little bigger. That's when it hit me. Pizza dough sucks up liquids and expands. She had burped, which released a little gas, but then the pizza soaked up the Coke and expanded, stretching her stomach more than ever. Her back was arched, trying to take some of the pressure off her overloaded belly, but it didn't seem to work.

    I did what I could for the gluttonous goddess beside me, stroking her overstuffed stomach as she moaned in a mixture of discomfort and pleasure. Time passes, and I notice her lifting, with heroic effort, that last bit of pizza to her mouth and cramming it in. Then, with an accomplished grunt, she just fell back limp, her gluttony at long last satisfied.

    I leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek, but just then, she didn't seem capable of much more than grunts and staring forward with glassy eyes. I sat there for a couple hours, thinking how lucky I was, how well today had gone, and imagining how it would be the next time we were together, how big Caitlyn was going to get with my help. Eventually though, I realized she'd passed out in her overfed state and wasn't going to be waking up any time soon. I was a little disappointed, but I could see this relationship going far. I had to get back to my apartment, but I did what I could. I wrote her a note and stuck it to her belly, where I knew she'd find it.

    Caitlyn,
    I had to leave, I hope you don't mind.
    I'm looking forward to seeing you again! You have my number, so let's try
    and make it happen soon. I've got a good feeling about this, and I think
    you do to, so see you later!”

    -David
     
    azerty likes this.
  4. Dec 13, 2013 #4

    J34

    J34

    J34

    Purple Monkey Dishwasher!

    Joined:
    Jul 25, 2007
    Messages:
    818
    Likes Received:
    101
    Location:
    ,
    Great story Bob, can't wait for what's next :happy:
     
  5. Dec 20, 2013 #5

    conversecurves

    conversecurves

    conversecurves

    Member

    Joined:
    Dec 29, 2008
    Messages:
    15
    Likes Received:
    0
    Location:
    ,
    Goddamn I love your stories. Cant wait for the next part!
     
  6. May 24, 2014 #6

    Cylon_bob

    Cylon_bob

    Cylon_bob

    Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Nov 24, 2011
    Messages:
    169
    Likes Received:
    4
    Location:
    ,
    A Lot Can Change pt. 2
    _____________________________________________________

    Yesterday was pretty interesting.

    . . .Is what I'd say if I suddenly found out, I dunno, that I was secretly Leonardo Di Caprio's long lost brother.

    'Interesting' is the wrong word for what yesterday was.

    What yesterday was was. . . mind blowingly amazing.
    _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

    Let's start at the beginning.

    Yesterday was my birthday, and I woke up to the terrifying-yet-incredibly-sexy sensation of being smothered by my girlfriend, Caitlyn's amazingly fat ass pressing down on my chest.

    Huh?

    Oh, yeah, Caitlyn got the note I left her. And things have actually been moving really fast ever since then. She had some kind of a thing, I dunno the details, with her landlord a couple weeks ago, and I don't mean the kind of 'thing' where she was fucking him for rent, I mean the kind of 'thing' where he tossed her out on her big, blubbery butt.

    Her parents flipped out on her, too, for more reasons I can't tell you, so she couldn't afford to get a new place. She had a big melt-down over all of this, and I, being the good boyfriend that I am, did the chivalrous thing and invited the gorgeous goddess of gluttony move in with me.

    It's been cramped, I mean, she's seriously fat, and getting fatter, and I'm just a normal dude, and now we're living in a one bedroom apartment with her. Luckily, I was already using a king-sized bed anyway, even when it was just me. I like to have room to spread out, alright?

    Now I'm sharing it with Caitlyn, there's not so much room to spread, and what little room there is seems to be shrinking for some mysterious reason, but you know what? Somehow, I don't particularly mind it, since I'm getting to share a bed with a woman like her.

    She's gotten herself a job to help pay for rent, which I told her she didn't need to do, but she insisted. It's been actually a lot of help, since it turns out she's got one hell of an appetite. It would be hard, without her help, to keep her as well fed as the two of us like her to be, and still be able to make rent at the end of the month. Plus, her job is at this adult store, which means that she gets employee discounts on all kinds of sexy lingerie and toys. You know, the kind of things that make living, and more importantly sleeping with her in this tiny, tiny apartment that much more amazing.

    Jealous?

    Ha. Anyway, she had apparently decided that sitting on my chest was a good way to wake me up, and while I can't agree, I can say that it would be a glorious way to die. Not that she kept sitting after she noticed my cherry-red face and weak struggles. She stood up after a few seconds, and walked out the door, saying as she left, “Good, you're up!”

    I just laid where I was, watching as Caitlyn, wearing nothing but a G-string and a well-fitted bra, strode out of the room, her vast ass cheeks rolling with each step, jiggles echoing all along her vast, flabby body. I kept laying there for a few seconds longer, lost in my thoughts, remembering that beautiful view, at least until she stuck her head back through the door, “Come on already! It's time to get your birthday all sorted out!”

    I honestly am unsure if I've ever moved faster in my entire life. I launched myself into the living room, half expecting the room to be completely filled, floor-to-ceiling with junk food, maybe a big, triple-layer chocolate cake that Caitlyn was going to stuff herself with, all for me to watch and enjoy. I was half-disappointed. The room was pretty much empty, aside from Caitlyn who was on the couch, motioning for me to come and join her.

    As I sat down, Caitlyn began talking, “Okay, so this is gonna take a little explanation, but. . . you remember when we first started dating?” I nodded, unsure where this was going to go, “How I spent like, a whole day just putting on a big show for you, trying to let you know I was trying to get fat?”

    “And I completely missed the point of it all, yes.”

    She smilled, excitedly, “So I was thinking that, for your birthday, I'd do that all over again. Put on a show, I mean, not just do a repeat performance.”

    I leaned in for a kiss to say that god yes, best present ever.

    She stood up a second later, rushing off into the bedroom, coming back a few seconds later with a familiar blue button-up and a pair of khakis. She was excited as she started to explain, “Okay, so I have actually a bunch of stuff planned for today, but I though we should get started with me changing into the outfit I was wearing that day!”

    I couldn't agree more.

    She stepped out directly in front of me, ordering me to stay seated where I was while she tried all these clothes on.

    The performance she gave in the next few minutes showed pretty clearly what the few months she'd spent dating me had done to her figure. She started with the button-up, commenting, “Let's get the easy bit out the way first, shall we?”

    It wasn't as easy as she'd been expecting. She hadn't gained particularly much in the time we'd been dating, but that was comparing to how fast she had been putting on weight. Girl's gotta plateau at some point, and we don't worry with scale weight, but if this was a plateau, then Mount McKinley is a bit of a tall hill.

    However, there has been a shift in where the weight settles. All Caitlyn's life, she's packed weight onto her ass like sand onto a sandcastle, but recently, she's gotten a bit of a gut! No complaints here, it's just her body beginning to balance itself out, and even if from here out, all of her new pounds went straight to the belly, she'd have to gain a lot before it overshadows those gloriously bloated buns of hers.

    She buttoned the top few buttons with ease. Her weight gain might be balancing itself out, but it still hasn't started targeting her tits just yet, so that wasn't a problem. The problem was with the buttons below the boobs. Her belly was definitely more than just a chubby tummy now. Also more than just 'a bit of a belly.' That was a straight, flabby gut, hanging out in front, flat out pouring over her waistband, and the shirt could only button over the top half of it. After that, there was no hope. She did manage to do a few buttons that lasted all the way until she breathed out before they popped off.

    And that kind of difficulty looked to be the way it seemed the khakis would go, too, with significantly less chance of fitting. She tried anyway, and got them halfway up those thunderous thighs, when suddenly, they just seemed so inadequate! If it had been me trying, I'd have given up at that point, but Caitlyn, fat girl that she is, knows a few secrets that the rest of us aren't privy to. Dating a gainer, you start to realize that there's some tricks you learn when you're an extra large girl trying to wear a pair of large-sized pants.

    She pulled them off, tossing them to the side, onto the recliner, and rushing off to the bathroom. She didn't explain what was happening, I just sat on the couch, clueless as to what was going on, and worse than that, I couldn't even throw together any explanation at all for what she was doing. That walk to the bathroom, that had too much purpose to be her just be giving up. It was then that she came back to the living room, strutting proudly holding a bottle in one hand.

    A bottle of baby oil.

    She took center-stage once more, and began pouring oil down her legs, spreading the glistening lotion across her soft, smooth thighs, digging her hands into the soft tissue, covering them with slickness. A few minutes of this, and she shook me out of my trance, “Da-vid?” She teased, “Could you help a girl out, here? Could you get the back of my butt?”

    I take back what I said earlier, that was the fastest I have ever moved.

    I grabbed the bottle from her hands, briefly worrying there wouldn't be enough for the twin globes of fat Caitlyn calls a bum. Not that the bottle was nearly empty or anything, but my god, that was a lot of square feet to cover. Caitlyn's hip measurement hasn't quite got there yet, but it's rapidly approaching her actual height.

    I did what Caitlyn asked, sinking my hands deep into the fat of her legs, spreading the oil liberally over her dimpled thighs, massaging the curve of her rump, actually losing myself in the job. I say I got lost doing the job because eventually, Caitlyn felt it necessary to hip check me in order to snap me out of it. Apparently, she'd been trying to get my attention?

    She actually knocked me over with her little 'booty-bump,' and all I know is that I was suddenly on the floor, looking up at the glistening legs and bountiful body of my slightly amused girlfriend, who had a knowing smile on her face, laughing as she said, “Now I got your attention, I think it's time to try the pants again!” I moved back to the couch, ready to watch.

    It went better this time, she got them further up her thighs than before, but there came a moment, she turned to me, “Hey, babe? Think you could help me, uh, get these on?”

    Hell yes, I could.

    The next ten minutes, we went back and forth, compacting Caitlyn's chub and pulling the khakis over it. It seemed hopeless at times, but with the help of the slippery, shining oil, we made progress. The pants didn't go all the way up, and there was no hope of them buttoning, but finally, Caitlyn was satisfied, at least enough to comment, “That's good enough! Wanna go get some food, then?”

    I was beginning to see what she'd meant when she said she was going to put on a show.
     
  7. May 24, 2014 #7

    Cylon_bob

    Cylon_bob

    Cylon_bob

    Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Nov 24, 2011
    Messages:
    169
    Likes Received:
    4
    Location:
    ,
    She couldn't move quickly, the way she was in those pants, at least not without hearing the seams pop like popcorn, but I didn't mind a slow walk with Caitlyn, especially not packed into those pants the way she was. I had to laugh, though, at the way the baby oil, so helpful at getting Caitlyn into those khakis, seemed to have soaked through the pants, leaving dark, greasy stains on the light colored fabric. Eventually, we got to my car, and she slid into the passenger's seat, and demanded, “Mickey D's, please!”

    I may, or may not have run a red light or two speeding to get there, but what the hell, it's not like this is a big city full of millions of people. No near-accidents happened.

    When we got there, I started to go through the drive-through, but Caitlyn was quick to stop me on that, “No, no, we gotta eat in!” A sly smile crossed her face, “We gotta show off how great this diet is working on me! I mean, it is a cheat day, after all! Let's show these people how thin I'm getting, yeah?” She winked at me, and I was on board with this.

    I should explain. Caitlyn really likes it when she knows people are judging her, and/or are trying to humiliate her for being fat. I mean like really likes it. It's a thing for her. Prior to this, we'd kept this kind of thing in the bedroom, with her playing exactly the role she'd just been speaking in. I was gonna have to create a new one for this situation, but what the hell, I took a class in improv, this was going to be fun.

    She walked in after me, speaking very loudly, “And yeah, I actually managed to fit into these pants again, so I'm totally excited! Totally earned a cheat day!” She definitely got attention from the people who were there. I saw one guy in the corner elbow his friend and point, a look of amazement on his face.

    “You're right, Claire,” (The name she used for this particular fantasy) “You're totally right. Order whatever, I'm paying!”

    Awkwardly, she waddled up to the counter, “Hey, yeah, can I get, uh, four number 14's, and could I possibly get a chocolate shake with each of those? Oh, and super-size them!” The kid behind the counter just blinked at her for a second in disbelief, before he nodded, put in the order, and handed off the receipt.

    We moved to the nearest table, Caitlyn doing some kind of dance to get people's attention, which was very effective, to say the least, I doubt anyone could look away from the fat girl doing her weird, jiggly dance-y thing. I continued the dialogue, “Claire, uh, kind of a big order, don't you think?”

    “Yeah, well, I got into these pants again, I'd say I deserve it!”

    “Yeah, well, as your trainer, I'm just going to warn you, every extra thing you eat on your cheat day, you still have to work off during the rest of the week!” So now I had a character set, but I still needed to advance this in a way that would keep people's attention, “I am surprised you got into those pants again, though, that shows progress! What are you down to?”

    “I think they're a size thirty. . . two? Might be thirty-fours, I can't really remember.”

    “Let me get a good look at you in them?” She obliged, standing up beside me, doing a little spin, showing off just how big of a woman she really was, and how hopelessly overwhelmed the khakis were in the fight against Caitlyn's well-padded body. I saw a teenager by the window pretending to vomit. I ignored that, “Nice, down to a thirty-two now, you're doing fantastic! I do have to ask, though, what happened to them? What're all those stains?”

    She sat back down, and with an embarrassed look, confessed, “Oh, well, uh, sorry, Dale, but I figured, since it was a cheat day, I'd give myself a little treat this morning. . .”

    I sighed, “Oh, Claire. What did you do, how much did you eat this time?”

    She stuck out her lip and looked innocently up at me, “Just a fried chicken. . .”

    I looked disappointed at her, “A whole chicken?”

    She nodded miserably, “And some ice cream for dessert. . . “

    I shook my head, “Oh, Claire. Claire, Claire, Claire. What am I going to do with you?”

    Caitlyn hung her head, “Does this mean I can't have my Macdonald's?”

    It was, conveniently enough, that exact moment that her number was called, so to answer her, I stood up and got the tray, noticing our audience shaking their heads at our performance, as if to say 'Are you kidding me? You're seriously getting this fat cow her food?!'

    I set it down in front of her, and lifted her head up with my finger, “No, it's your cheat day, Claire. I'm not gonna stop you from eating as much as you want, I'm just letting you know that you're probably gonna regret this.”

    Her eyes lit up, and she dug in like a starving animal, shoveling food down her throat at an inhumane speed. She ate with a passion that showed, almost as well as her bloated body, how experienced she was at overeating. The whole restaurant actually went quiet as they watched this big, beautiful woman binging on burgers, shoveling them down her throat as though it were a contest, pausing only for milkshake and fry breaks. They stopped everything, really, no talking, no eating, just staring, open-mouthed and wide-eyed at the massively obese, gluttonous glory that is Caitlyn when she's lost in the depths of a burger binge.

    As the last fistful of french fries was swallowed, I heard someone, I don't know who, just respond with a long, drawn out 'dayumm!'

    Damn indeed.

    I stood up, “So, uh, Claire, now you're done, do you want to head out?”

    Caitlyn put her hands on the growing dome of her tummy, and let out one long, drawn-out burp, “Just about. Hey, uh, Dale, could you do me a favor while you're up? Could you order me just one more meal? Could I get a number three this time? Same thing as the rest, supersized, chocolate shake?”

    I sat back down, “How about you order it yourself?”

    She flushed red, “Well, I would, but, uh, I'm kinda feeling a little, uh. . . full right now. I figured you could order, and then by the time it got here, we could go?”

    I stood back up, and went to the counter, while everyone in the room just stared. I placed the order, and went back to the table, “It's your waistline's funeral, not mine!”

    She laughed, “My waistline had its funeral years ago, this is just me pouring more dirt on the gravesite! Besides, I'm doing my diet thing the rest of the week, it's not that big of a deal!”

    This is when they called our number. Surprisingly fast, I think they might have just wanted to get rid of us. I dunno why, it's not like we were showing the rest of the room what would happen if they kept eating those hamburgers they were enjoying when we came in!

    We laughed the whole way home about that.
    _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


    It was on the way into the apartment that the khakis finally gave up, tearing at the sides as she took one step a tad too large for them to accommodate. We mourned that it didn't happen at the restaurant, but not for long. See, Caitlyn had plans. We had somewhere to be, apparently, and she'd needed a change of clothes, anyway! She set me back on the sofa, and disappeared into our bedroom, returning with a large bag, marked Hearts, the store she worked in. Again, I thank God for the wonder that is employee discounts.

    She took her position in front of me, “Okay, birthday boy, we got somewhere we got to go, but first, I need to get dressed for the occasion, yeah?” She reached into the bag, pulling out a very large pair of leather pants that actually might be able to contain Caitlyn. Off came the khakis, and on with the new pants, which were a bit small, but only on a girl like Caitlyn. I mean, there was enough fabric there to cover the vast expanse of an ass as fat as the one she'd grown. Says a lot. The weren't too far outgrown, though, she didn't need my help with them. She did a quick spin, showing off for me.

    And I judge that they were perfection. Sometimes, well-fitting clothes can be hotter than too-small ones, and this was an example of that. They were clearly intended to be form-fitting, and that they were, showing the curvature of Caitlyn's rump quite effectively.

    I didn't get too long to admire her ass in those pants, though, because after a second or two, she ripped off her top in one fluid motion, and unsnapped her bra, letting it fall to the floor.

    Now I'll be the first to tell you, I'm an ass man. Give me a girl with a booty and I'm happy. Caitlyn is a perfect woman as far as I can say, a big woman with a big butt, and with her being a gainer, I basically got the bonus plan. Keeping that in mind, her standing there topless was enough to leave me speechless. Her breasts were like two cherries, stop a pear-shaped sundae of pure, unbridled sexy, small in proportion to the rest of her, but firm, and perfectly round. Even with their main form of support lying on the floor, they just sat where they were, proud and perky, supported, if only in a minimalist sense, by the swell of her stomach, popping out beneath them, swollen with the weight of her recent gorge.

    She saw me gawking, and smiled as she reached once more into her Hearts bag, coming out with yet another bit of black leather sexy-wear, this time, a corset. Not the type of corset that would cover her entire upper body, thereby making her look thinner than she actually is. No, this corset would only have a thinning effect on the very top of her upper body, supporting those tits, slimming the area directly beneath them, and leaving the rest of her belly free to billow out below. So. . . not even remotely thinning.

    She needed my help with getting the corset on. She hadn't tried it on, apparently, and there were kind of a lot of buckles and laces to tighten up. It didn't take long, and we couldn't actually make it very tight, what with her beach ball belly being bloated like it was. I did what I could, though, then took a step back to admire.

    The outfit was incredibly unflattering on Caitlyn, at least in the eyes of mainstream media. In my opinion, though, there's not much I can imagine that could possibly be sexier that the way Caitlyn's corset cut cruelly into her carefully cultured body, forcing her flab to bulge out the bottom, exaggerating her already impressively fat physique.

    Those leather pants didn't do her any favors, either, with the way they clung closely to the lower half of her overly curvaceous body, not quite covering the top inch of her ass crack, showing with more clarity than her usual wardrobe exactly how massive her thighs had become, and leaving the waistband of her G-string completely visible. Whale tail alert, and the whale in question was the sexiest damn woman I've seen in years.

    Also of note, the spare tire she had jiggling around over the waistband of the pants, a stunning example of a muffin top gone wild, fed by the untold thousands of calories Caitlyn consumes on a daily basis, bloated by the countless trips to buffets all around the city.

    Now I expected this to be one of the last big events of the evening. That after this, we'd start winding down for the day, like she'd parade around in this costume for a while, we'd order a ridiculous number of extra-large pizzas, Caitlyn would eat a ridiculous number of extra-large pizzas, maybe there would be a big reveal and Caitlyn would wheel out that triple-layer chocolate cake I'd been expecting that morning. Like, I kinda figured we were in for the night. Well, we weren't.

    She looked at me, hypnotized as I was by the glory of her perfectly plump, fabulously fat body, “So. . .” she started, dragging me out of my own little world, “You ready to head out to see the show?”

    “Uh, what show are we going to see, again?” I'm about 98% sure she never told me about this show she was apparently planning on us going to, but I wasn't about to let her know that.

    She grinned, “How would you feel about Amanda Palmer?” My jaw dropped.

    Let me explain you a thing right fast. Amanda 'Fucking' Palmer is, as far as I'm concerned, one of the greatest perfomers/artists of the modern age. I saw her live years ago, when she was part of The Dresden Dolls, this 'Brechtian punk cabaret duo,' which sounds weird as hell, but is actually amazing. They broke up after three albums, because they got pissed at their recording label, but Amanda continued on with a solo career, and also continued to be fucking phenomenal.

    Also, this explains Caitlyn's outfit. Tribute to Amanda's on-stage stylings. I'm the one who introduced her to Amanda's music, she knows how passionate I am about it, and now, here she was, flashing around two tickets to see her perform. It was a couple hours away, yeah, but I'd be willing to drive twice as far to see Amanda do a show. Besides, I figured, there were plenty of fast food joints on the drive, lots of opportunities for Caitlyn to continue her day-long binge!

    I say it like that because I figured wrong. Weirdly, when I offered, she told me she wasn't hungry and we should just keep going.

    That might seem normal, yeah? Well this is Caitlyn we're talking about. She's always hungry. Even when she's stuffed to the brim, she's hungry. This was literally the first time she's refused food in the entire time we'd been dating. She wanted to be looking good for the concert, she said, and she dropped some pretty obvious hints that there was another reason, too, that she wanted to keep secret until it came time.

    Came time for what?

    Well, that was the secret, now wasn't it?

    We got to the show a bit early, since I'd decided when to leave building in time for burger breaks, but it worked out alright. We used the time we had to tighten up Caitlyn's corset. There were lots of straps and laces to tighten, especially now those burgers from before had mostly digested. Lots of room, actually, made me realize how big that binge had actually been, considering it was on a less-than-empty stomach to begin with.

    The show was amazing. I'll try to keep my description of it short, since I know you probably don't actually care about it, but it's gonna be tough. Amanda mostly stuck to the songs from her solo career, but there were a couple from the Dresden Dolls years, and a few she'd written for her (sadly) short-lived band, Amanda Palmer's Grand Theft Orchestra. More important though than her set list, she did a bunch of crowd work.

    Most memorably, she noticed Caitlyn up near the front,being sexy as hell, dancing to the dynamism that is Amanda 'Fucking' Palmer, shaking her fat, bouncy booty to the beat, just generally not giving a flying fuck that she was fat as hell, and she literally invited her on-stage, interacted with her as a fan, complimented her on the corset, told her she was awesome. Then, upon hearing it was my birthday, brought me up there too, and I don't know I'll ever get a better present than having my favorite artist pause her planned setlist just to sing me happy birthday, not to mention the audience joining in!

    Saying all this, I realize it sounds like bullshit, but if you think that, then you clearly are unfamiliar with AFP. She does what she wants when she's on-stage, and if there's anything she knows how to do, it's work a crowd. She does things like this, bringing up fans that catch her attention, chatting with them, and it never feels weird, or forced, or even like she's wasting time she could be performing, it's just so natural, like this big, fluid event, flowing from one moment to the next effortlessly.

    I'm starting to ramble, you realize I could talk about this for hours without getting tired of it, but I'll just say this. All told, this was one of the best nights of my entire life. And it wasn't over yet. Caitlyn had one more thing planned for me.
     
  8. May 24, 2014 #8

    Cylon_bob

    Cylon_bob

    Cylon_bob

    Well-Known Member

    Joined:
    Nov 24, 2011
    Messages:
    169
    Likes Received:
    4
    Location:
    ,
    She wouldn't tell me what it was, though, just kept teasing me, saying stuff like 'you're gonna love what's coming up,' and being super vague the whole way home, still telling me not to stop for fast food, even though by this point, I actually could hear her tummy rumbling, crying out for sustenance. I doubt she'd restricted herself from food this long in ages.

    We got back to the apartment in the wee hours of the morning, but somehow, after walking through that door, neither of us felt like going to sleep. Everything was made clear to me, what she'd been hinting at during our drive home.

    See, right there in the middle of the coffee table sat a very large, very conspicuous cake. Yep, I did actually get that three-layer cake I'd been expecting all day. Well, I got to see it. Caitlyn got the cake. There were other various desserts spread around the room, but what stood out was this cooler I noticed on the floor next to the table. There was a note set on top. I read what it said,

    David,

    Happy birthday, dude!

    Look at the room around you. Now look at Caitlyn.
    Now imagine all that food inside Caitlyn.
    Now, know that there's a gallon and a half of ice
    cream in this cooler. Now what I want you to do is
    stuff that fat bitch Caitlyn full of so much ice cream
    it's coming out her ears for me. Then the rest of the food.
    Finally, start her in on the cake.
    No mercy, man, just force her to keep going
    until this room is totally clear!

    Trust me, she's gonna be totally into it.


    - Signed, your very nice, and helpful neighbor who is getting
    stupid fat because of you two assholes,

    Raina

    I had to laugh at the sign off. To explain, Raina was Caitlyn's friend back while she was at school, and she definitely picked up a few of Caitlyn's eating/exercise habits, and therefore, she packed on a lot of weight. Went from being sorta thin with big boobs to being very definitely fat, with giant, fat tits. She moved in a few doors down from me, and we've done a bunch of hanging out, the three of us, and she seems to find it difficult to not eat a ridiculous amount of food when she hangs around me, hence my inclusion in her blame. I maintain I'm only trying to fatten Caitlyn, and that it's not my fault she's nearly matching Caitlyn, bite for fattening bite!

    I opened the cooler, and sure enough, half a gallon of Ben and Jerry's was there. I glanced at Caitlyn, looking oh-so-thin, a flabby, but currently empty stomach, looking relatively trim compared to the way over-stuffed gut she normally walked around with. She smiled at me, “I gave Raina the extra key, told her to set all this up while we were out. I've been starving myself all afternoon, just so I could handle this. Only now,” She paused, stuck out her lower lip, put her hands to her belly, and whined, “I'm so hungry! What do you have for me?”

    I passed off the ice cream to her, and the two of us sat back on the sofa, her to binge, and me to enjoy the show, which was impressive. Every day, she amazed me with how she could eat, I mean, the girl is a machine at eating, just crazy fast, and that's when she's already got a belly full of junk food. Now, that belly was empty, and the speed she ate at would probably set world records if we'd been recording it.

    Well, it would have been, were it not for the corset-loosening breaks that were necessary. The pants were unbuttoned pretty immediately, but the corset took time. She didn't want to take it off you see, only wanted to loosen it little bits at a time, eating until it was a problem, then calling me over to fix the problem. I didn't mind, actually. Hearing her moaning with release and pleasure when I unhooked a strap, or loosened a lace, it was sexy as hell, those visceral outbursts of relief, and I loved it.

    Next, was a rather large chess pie I found on top of the TV. She started off eating with the same intensity as she had with the ice cream, but then, halfway through the pie, she stopped eating, looked at me, and dropped a bomb. Not the bad sort of bomb, but it was definitely unexpected. See, it was after devouring her third piece with the sort of ravenous appetite you'd expect from a half-starved lion. She just suddenly stopped, looked up at me, chess pie smeared around her mouth, and a hungry look in her eyes, and whispered, “Feed me.”

    I didn't question her. We'd talked about me feeding her, I mentioned that to you last time we spoke, but this was the first time we did it, with me moving the food to her open, inviting mouth, her accepting my offerings, using her hands only to rub her stomach, relieving pressure.

    At least, that's what her hands were busy with after she'd finished the pie. Until then, she didn't feel any discomfort from fullness, you see? It makes sense, I mean, she'd held off on eating for hours, when ordinarily, she didn't go more than five minutes without snacking. She had spent so much time stretching her stomach out, increasing her capacity for gluttony, always dissatisfied with not quite being able to clear an entire buffet table in one sitting, ignoring the fact that she'd never tried on a truly empty stomach. If she couldn't do it on her ordinary, mildly-to-extremely stuffed stomach, then she couldn't do it at all. Now that she'd actually starved herself for a few hours, she had an unholy appetite, and it took more than a gallon and a half of ice cream and a single pie, even a large pie, to get her to an even slightly uncomfortable level of fullness.

    No, it was the next item on the menu that managed to get her at the 'feeling kinda full' marker, and even then, it was only after we'd gotten three quarters of the way through this obscenely large plate of brownies that the stomach-rubbing began.

    No groans of discomfort yet, though, those began after the brownies, when we moved on to what I'd estimate to be about a pound of fudge with peanut-butter swirls, topped with an entire spray bottle of whipped cream, 'topped' in the sense of 'sprayed directly into her mouth.'

    After the last mouthful of fudge, I loosened her corset one more notch, putting it as close to unhooked as possible, and looked at the last remaining calorie bomb, the one bit of future fatness that Caitlyn had yet to consume. We'd saved the best, 'best' meaning 'largest,' dessert for last. Go out with a bang, you know, the 'bang' in this case potentially being the bursting of Caitlyn's poor, poor belly from too much food. The two of us turned our eyes to the coffee table, to the cake, me in excitement, Caitlyn with a look of worry.

    I grabbed the knife beside the cake, and cut her a more than generous slice, putting it on the plate the knife had been laying on, and knowing full well how she'd react, set the plate, and a fork, upon Caitlyn's globular, once again well-stuffed and impressively round stomach. She wasn't happy about that, from the groan she let out. I laughed, and removed it from her belly, and began feeding her, forkful by forkful. Partway through her second very large slice, she started to seem reluctant to eat more, so I began to encourage her. Well, maybe 'encouraging' isn't exactly what I was doing. . .

    “Oh come on, Caitlyn, are you really gonna just give up now? God, and here I was, thinking you'd go all the way!” She took a bite, it was working, “That's it, Caitlyn, be the fat girl you've always wanted to be! Keep eating, you'll get there soon enough!”

    She held up her hand for me to stop, and groaned briefly, then said, wheezing slightly between phrases, “So. . . You're saying. . . Saying I'm not fat? . . .You realize. . . I had to get these pants. . . Had to order them special made. . . Special delivery. . . Nobody makes leather pants. . . my size. . .”

    I rolled my eyes, pushing another, large forkful up to her mouth, and she hesitantly swallowed it. I kept doing what I was doing, “Okay, so you're not too skinny anymore. But tell me. When was the last time you got stuck in a turnstile? You walked through the door just fine earlier, what kind of proper fat girl just does that without even having to turn to the side? Eat some cake, you skinny bitch!” I had by this time switched into roleplaying, just to make it clear, and from the weak smile that crossed Caitlyn's face just before she swallowed the cake I was holding in her face, she picked up on that.

    Still wheezing, half from the corset, half from the sheer amount of food she'd just consumed, Caitlyn managed to beg me, “Just. . . loosen up the corset. . .please!”

    I paused in my insisting she eat more, leaned back to look at Caitlyn, squinting my eyes, then telling her, “It's your own fault, now isn't it? A real fat girl wouldn't be wearing something to make herself skinny, now would she? Proper proud fat girl would let the world know just how morbidly obese she really is, be proud in all her fat rolls!” She looked up at me, pleading, and I gave in, “Fine, you skinny little witch, I'll get this devil's underwear off your skinny little body. You know, a proper fatass would eat until her clothes just couldn't handle it anymore and popped off her big, blubbery body! But then, you're not a fat girl, now are you?”

    I went to completely take the corset off, and I couldn't help but notice, she wasn't actually too far from doing exactly what I was saying. There were too many buckles and laces for it to really give in, but the whole thing was more or less barely holding together, meaning I only had to undo a few buckles before the thing exploded off of her entirely, leaving her upper body exposed, and from the way she started eating again, opening up a lot of stomach space. The rest of that second slice went down in less than a minute, and she barely slowed her pace while she powered through piece number three.

    “Yes. . . There we go. . . Proper piggy eats when there's food in front of her. . . Not when she's hungry. . . Proper piggy is never truly hungry. . . Always keeps her fat little tummy full as can be. . .” She was looking down, examining the rock hard globe that her stomach had become. I raised her chin up with my finger, “And are you? A proper piggy?”

    Caitlyn responded with a whimper, followed by a quiet, “Yes. . .”

    “I didn't hear you. What was that now? What are you?”

    She looked up at me, and in a slightly louder voice, “I'm a proper little piggy.”

    I leaned over, closer to her face, “That's exactly right, you're a little piggy! Teeny-tiny little thing, blow away in a strong wind! Tell me, though. How would you feel about being a great, big piggy? You want that? You want that, don't you? You really want to get so fat, you make the girls who get stuck in turnstiles look like anorexic little sticks, don't you? You want to get so fat you could get stuck sitting in the bed of a truck!” I held up a forkful.

    She didn't hesitate to accept my offer of cake, and immediately after swallowing, moaned. It was an odd sort of moan, I couldn't tell if it was from the pain her overloaded stomach was giving her, or from the pleasure she got at the idea of being fat enough to get stuck in double doors, but I'm pretty sure it was in pleasure that she moaned her answer to me, “I wanna be fatter!”

    I chuckled, “Oh really, now? How would you like to be so big you can't ride in elevators anymore, 'cause you're heavier than their weight limit?” I pushed the last forkful of slice number four to her mouth, and continued, “How about you're so fat you fill the whole elevator all on your own? Every elevator is private if no one else can fit on because Caitlyn Chase is there, filling every inch of space with her big, fat butt!”

    Another moan of pleasure, “Mmmph! More cake! Feed me!”

    I chose this moment to stop for a second, grin knowingly at my girlfriend, “Are you sure? You look kinda full there, Caitlyn! And this is the last piece of cake! Do you really think you can handle this? I mean, your poor, feminine figure--”

    She cut me off, shouting angrily, “Fuck my feminine figure! I wanna be fat”

    I grinned, “As you wish, milady!” she worked through this last piece slowly, clearly fighting against the fact that this was by a long shot the biggest binge of her entire life. I continued my encouraging,

    “Come on, piggy, you've been training for this moment for months, right? What kind of piggy are you if you can't even finish a measly little cake?”

    “One more bite? Can you really do that? Oh, you can!”

    “Oh, but I bet you're too full now, aren't you? How do you ever expect to get so fat you make a hippo look thin if you can't eat any more than you already have? Oh, you can eat more!”

    “Doing good for such a skinny girl!”

    And finally,

    “One last bite, come on, you can do it!”

    And she did. After that, I dropped the act, and went back to the loving boyfriend, there to rub Caitlyn's aching belly, and do what I could to make her comfortable while she sat there, bigger than ever, topless, stomach hard as a rock, and me trying desperately to resist the urge to pinch and jiggle and jiggle the fat rolls along her sides, in plain view. In the end, we fell asleep like that, just cuddling, me sinking into the softness that was everywhere aside from that poor, aching belly.
    _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

    To sum this whole story up in few sentences, I knew this girl a couple years ago, back in high school, who was definitely a bit chubby, had a fantastic ass, and the appetite of a much fatter woman. I was mildly attracted to her even then, but she was a bit thin for my tastes.

    Two years later, she's become the fatass she always had the potential to be, and I'm dating said woman. We're living together, her slightly chubby, pear-shaped physique has transformed into a massively fat figure, dominated by hips almost as far around as she is tall, despite her perpetually full, always amazingly bloated stomach, her daily caloric intake is enough to survive an average human for months, and she's become quite the little exhibitionist about her size and appetite.

    We've gone from being lab partners in senior year to us role playing a physical trainer and fast food-addicted BBW in public settings, from acquaintances with no friends in common to me force feeding her an entire, three-layer cake given to us by our mutual BBW friend, while she sits, topless and looking nine months pregnant with triplets, due to the already ungodly amount of food she's eaten.

    And you know? I like these changes
     

Share This Page