A wonderful mutual fatty tale.
I see that most people put on a bit of weight when they get married. So it was with Jan and I. We were young and in love. We cooked together in the evenings. She was from a midwestern farm family and was used to hearty meals. Meals meant to keep a man working and strong. I had grown up with a single father and learning to cook was a survival tool. Dad had a very active social calendar so I cooked for myself often. Even as a kid I realized that mac and cheese from a box was low rent. Not that I was a food snob by any means, but I taught myself how to really cook so I had some variety.
After work I would come home and we would cook together. Food and cooking became foreplay for us. We would wash the veggies while sharing a small sink. Then it was back and forth as we stirred and sampled and spiced. More than one night dinner was forgotten, the passion of all that bumping into each other in a tiny kitchen, giving way to other appetites. Most nights we would plate our meals and sit together. We talked about our days and dreams while we ate. This led to longer and longer meals. When wine was added the nights got even more relaxed. It was not long before we were changing clothes before we started cooking. In the early years we passed it off as getting comfy. We were both aware we were putting on pounds but neither of us was ready to talk about it.
Jan was a stay at home writer and I was an outside salesman so we both had free time to shop for new clothes, as the need arose, without having to involve one another. I would compliment her on a new dress and she would say she liked my new slacks but we did not talk about why we needed the wardrobe updates. For the first ten years we were married this was our routine. We were successful and happy. We bought a small cottage on a lake in Indiana. I bought a row boat and took Jan for long slow floats as she fed me local cheeses and home made crackers. In the middle of the lake I would take a turn feeding her and plying her with Mead. I had taken to making the honey wine as a hobby, but as I gave a bottle away here and there my reputation grew.
One afternoon I had been aimlessly surfing the web and found a site dedicated to the making of Mead. Mead was the original fermented drink made by mixing honey and yeast and water. I experimented with adding a bit of fruit and spice and had settled into a routine of making batches in a rotation so we had a plentiful supply. As I said, I had given away a few bottles and now had a viable, albeit underground, side business. Any invitation was an opportunity to bring a bottle or two along. I think the Mead mellowed us as we ate. We never gulped or sped through our meals. They were leisurely meanderings, not hasty jaunts.
Guests to our home always commented on how relaxed we were and how time slowed down at our house.
Jan had been very well received and had an ongoing series of books that gave her time to take up gardening in ernest. Our cottage was surrounded by flowers and shrubbery. It looked like a story book. The pathway to our private dock was lined with wildflowers and an ivy covered picket fence. Over the years our neighbors had gotten older and wanted to move back to town. Since all of their grounds were summer properties, without permanent structures, we had bought a piece at a time and now owned all the lots halfway round the lake. That being said, Jan had unlimited privacy and she had taken to doing her gardening nearly au natural. Just enough cloth to insure her sense of propriety remained intact. So it was that the subject of size and adipose was finally broached. I was home early from a business trip. I had changed into shorts and skipped the shirt. As I walked out onto the deck, with a tall drink in hand, Jan was just rounding the bend, coming up from the lake. All she wore was a gauze sundress. It stuck to her like a second skin, wetted from her labors. I let out a low whistle as she neared. Damn if you are not the prettiest woman.
Pretty fat. Was her response. She stopped just short of the deck and out of reach. The afternoon sun shown behind her and made the sundress that was already shear, see through. I was instantly aroused. My shorts made my situation painfully obvious. I see that my fat does not bother you. She was smiling. This was a critical moment and I did not want to respond to quickly. I took a long pull of my drink and savored it. Well. Maybe one more slow sip. I have not lost any weight myself and you have not complained. It sounded weak but I was on the spot and clearly flustered by the beauty of my very round, nearly naked wife.
Smooth.
I...well...I...shit!
What? She was walking forward slowly. Is my big strong hubby shy? Now she was right in front of me. She peeled her sundress over her head and stood there in all her glory. Her tummy and breasts in a race to see which would stop jiggling first. You like all my fat, dont you? All this soft, squishy, cream, blubber makes you rock hard. Like lightning her hand was on my rigid manhood. She was pushing herself into me and talking about her fat the whole time. Several strokes and suggestions about how she got so fat and I was spilling my seed in my shorts. Now I was really embarrassed. Jan just laughed as I sat down heavily in a deck chair. I need a drink. she said and headed into the kitchen for a refreshment. I sat there amazed at what had just happened. I was almost waiting for the alarm to go off so I would wake up. If your going to write erotic fantasy about fat couples and weight gain and food, you might want to get a screen saver. Jan said as she lowered herself into a chair across from me. She had gotten a drink and a pair of panties but was still topless.
Sorry. Another weak answer but I was still reeling from the last few minutes.
For what? For having desires and fantasies? I am just thrilled they arent revolving around some 20 year old, skinny, cheerleader. As far as fetishes go this seems rather mild.
Fetish?
Honey, you have hundreds of saved stories and bookmarks, all centered on fat.
You searched my computer?
I sat down and your screen came on when the mouse jumped. Your story was up and I read it. I got curious so I went looking around. I will tell you I sent Substansia Jones an e-mail and would love to be a Adipositivity girl. I read a bunch of the stories and have chatted with several folks on Fantasy Feeder and some of the Dimensions pay site ladies.
And?
And. I find all of this very erotic. Just knowing that you find all of my fat to be so arousing is a relief. I have always wondered how you felt about me getting fatter. We have always had so much fun cooking and you never seemed to mind but I still worried once in a while.
I have not lost any weight myself.
True enough. She had slid closer and was gently rubbing my tummy. But men gain weight when they get married, it makes them look happy and taken.
But I am fat. Not married and plump. Fat.
Does that bother you? From reading your stories I rather assumed you were happy to be rotund.
I wanted to say something but all I could do was stammer and blush.
When I had drained a couple more glasses of Mead my voice returned. I admitted, for the first time out loud, that I did love fat. I told Jan how watching her get fatter and fatter had kept me in plenty of fantasy writing material over the years. We talked the evening away about how sexy I found her and why. She was very encouraging and understanding. This was like coming out only less acceptable. She listened and added a laugh or a smile here and there. I assume she let me prattle on until she thought I was well lubricated and giddy. I admit I was very buzzed when she brought up the Elephant in the room.
So we have well explored your love for my adipose. What about yours?
Mine? I tried to maintain my composure but I was too tipsy.
Yes yours. If my research is correct you, I assume you must be over 300 pounds. That would be a 140 pound gain, at least. Since you have been so revealing about your lust for my fat, I thought now might be a good time to talk about your own portly desires.
I am a bit tipsy Dear.
The better to free your inhibitions.
The better to make a fool of myself.
I have been sitting here for couple hours, nearly naked, listening to you gush about how you are enthralled by my blubber. I have read your stories about your own obesity driven lusts, and now your worried about embarrassment? I kept drinking as she kept talking. I think I deserve to hear it all and I know you have desires about your own adipose, so fess up! She was looking directly into my eyes and, even drunk I knew I was busted.
Okay, I do enjoy being chubby.
Honey you sailed past chubby 80 pounds ago. Maybe 100 pounds ago
Are you going to listen? She held her finger to her lip and zipped as I went on.
Okay I am fat, and getting fatter, and it excites me and scares me. I am driven by this primal urge that I am helpless to resist. I have tried to diet and work out but I always end up binging and feeling so ashamed.
The flood gates had opened and my alcohol fueled revelations poured out like water through a the Hoover Dam. Tears welled up in my eyes as I confessed to buffet lunches and sneaking food all day as I made sales calls. We went into my study and I showed her my secret files, filled with pictures of hugely obese men. Photo after photo of sagging paunches and droopy, fat, man boobs. Manhood never exposed because it was swallowed by rolls and rolls of fat. I went on about feeling my clothes getting tighter and tighter as I ate my way through the high 30 waisted range. I showed her cell phone pics of me buying my first 40 slacks. Each photo set showed the next size and the roll that was over the waist band of the last size before I upgraded. I paused as I looked for the file that contained the first photos of the first 50s. I had to start going to the Big and Tall once I left the 40s. This added to the sexual tension because the sales staff is all female and it is a small shop so they knew how often I was upsizing. They all tease me and envy you. They are open fatty lovers. You have to know I NEVER strayed!
Jan hugged me and told me she knew I was faithful. She also admitted that she had met the women at the store when she first found out about my secret. She said she had known for months but had never found a way to bring it up until tonight. I only had a few pictures left and we looked through them. The last shot was of my and in a pair of 54 jeans. So there you have it. I have no idea what to say now.
Do you want to be this fat?
Yes.
Do you want to be fatter?
This was too much. I grabbed the bottle of wine and walked back out onto the deck. I found my seat and eased back into it. Jan was behind me and slid her hands down and cupped my fat breasts while her belly brushed my shoulders. She flicked my nipples absently and said, Well. Come on now. No more secrets. I love you and want you to be happy so tell me the truth. Do you want to be fatter?
YES!...YES!...I want to be fatter and to eat and binge and have you talk about how fat I am and tease me lovingly about being such a piggy. There! There is the truth. I was shaken and spent and exhausted but it was finally all out in the open. I waited for her to be repulsed or laugh at me but instead she came around in front of me and kneeled down at my feet.
Relax Baby, I love you and am glad we will be able to share this. I have gotten fat with you and always worried you might wake up one day and decide I was ugly. Now that I know all this, I have a couple confessions of my own. For tonight, come to bed and let me love my chubby hubby.
We made love like it was the first time. No longer inhibited about my desire for her fat, I was free to concentrate on her arousal including her fat not in spite of it. I have to acknowledge that she had hidden desires of her own because she was an awakened minx. She licked and fondled and sucked my fat like fine chocolates. Each nibble a new, unknown delight. We finally fell asleep as the dawn rained in on our bed. We had ignited a new passion and longed to stay in the warm glow of it as long as we could sustain ourselves, but in the end exhaustion won out and we drifted into sated slumber. I dreamed in technicolor reality about Willy Wonka and our new home on the green lawns of Gumdrop Lane. Oompa Loompas rolled us to and fro. We were the game pieces in some sort of lawn game for them. I woke, slowly, late in the afternoon to find Jan gone from our bed. I smelled coffee and followed it. I had not even stopped to grab my robe. A quick pit stop in the bath and I was walking into the kitchen, naked as a newborn. Jan had found a silky housedress and was filling my cup. I should get my robe. No need, you look kinda cute and soft and fury.
So when do I hear your confessions?
I had hoped you were too far gone to remember that.
Oh no Missy! You got me hammered and loose lipped, but now it is your turn.
Okay...after breakfast.
Another bullet dodged. I had never seen such a breakfast outside of a buffet line. The food was wonderful and plentiful and I ate. I ate and ate and then had just a bit more. Now that I had no more secrets I felt free to gorge myself. Jan kept encouraging me and offering more and more. She even gave my tummy a gentle rub between plates. I did my best but finally I stopped. Enough. Enough, really? I should say so, you have eaten through everything we had. I suppose after last night you figure your free to get even fatter?
I thought...
Yes Dear, we are gonna get you fatter. Go sit in your chair. I put a towel in it so you can be comfy. Later we can get you dressed. I made it to my chair and groaned as I settled in. I was in a stupor as Jan began to tell me her secrets.
She had found out about my secret several months earlier and had been doing research on the subject. Just the way she researched her books. All sorts of facts and figures and diagrams. She paced back and forth as she explained her evolution after finding out my hidden desires. At first she had been shocked, but as she read and studied and chatted she began to get aroused. She found herself looking at fat men and imagining them fatter. She took to reading labels and calculating growth rates. Finally she explained her plans.
She had found a BMI calculator and figured since she was 54 and 350 pounds, her BMI was 60. As I was 511 I would need to weigh 432 pounds for us to be equal. I like the idea of equality so that will be our first goal. Once we get you that fat we will decide if your fat enough. Since you are already well on your way, I thought we would target 2 or 3 pounds a week as a good rate. That will allow us to reach equality within a year, give or take. Factoring a variable for any weight I may add as a byproduct of growing you a year and a half, tops. She stopped and looked at me as though I should respond.
You figured all this out? You sound like the decision is made and I am going to become obese.
You are already obese.
Okay, then obeser.
More obese.
That.
Yes, you are going to become more obese. Much more obese. We will need to journal extensively so I will be able to turn this into a series of pamphlets for feeders and encouragers. I will write a how to manual for turning your lover into a blimp, or a bigger blimp. She handed me a drawing. This is the working artwork. It showed a dirigible with a head and hands and feet. The blimp was tethered, the same as a parade balloon. The face on the blimp was mine. Funny. She just smiled and handed me a candy bar.
You really weigh 350 pounds? I would never have guessed.
I have a present for you. She handed me a package in plain brown paper.
What is this? I asked.
The future.
I unwrapped the gift and found a pair of 72 waisted Dickies.
If my math is correct you have gone from 170ish to 310ish and from 34 to 54 pants. If you continue to get fatter in the same places then these pants should fit you in the 430 range.
I held them up and was amazed at how huge they looked. Given that my present 54s looked awfully big on their own, these looked like circus fat man pants. I could not wait until they started to get snug. I was as excited as a kid at Christmas. You really think I can get that fat? Fat enough for these pants?
I do not think you can. I know you will! She was grinning ear to ear. It is about time for you to be the humongous fatty you are destined to be. I also bought you a cane. Your going to need some support.
She was patting my paunch when she added, This is as big as Dickies goes, after this I we may have to get creative.
I see that most people put on a bit of weight when they get married. So it was with Jan and I. We were young and in love. We cooked together in the evenings. She was from a midwestern farm family and was used to hearty meals. Meals meant to keep a man working and strong. I had grown up with a single father and learning to cook was a survival tool. Dad had a very active social calendar so I cooked for myself often. Even as a kid I realized that mac and cheese from a box was low rent. Not that I was a food snob by any means, but I taught myself how to really cook so I had some variety.
After work I would come home and we would cook together. Food and cooking became foreplay for us. We would wash the veggies while sharing a small sink. Then it was back and forth as we stirred and sampled and spiced. More than one night dinner was forgotten, the passion of all that bumping into each other in a tiny kitchen, giving way to other appetites. Most nights we would plate our meals and sit together. We talked about our days and dreams while we ate. This led to longer and longer meals. When wine was added the nights got even more relaxed. It was not long before we were changing clothes before we started cooking. In the early years we passed it off as getting comfy. We were both aware we were putting on pounds but neither of us was ready to talk about it.
Jan was a stay at home writer and I was an outside salesman so we both had free time to shop for new clothes, as the need arose, without having to involve one another. I would compliment her on a new dress and she would say she liked my new slacks but we did not talk about why we needed the wardrobe updates. For the first ten years we were married this was our routine. We were successful and happy. We bought a small cottage on a lake in Indiana. I bought a row boat and took Jan for long slow floats as she fed me local cheeses and home made crackers. In the middle of the lake I would take a turn feeding her and plying her with Mead. I had taken to making the honey wine as a hobby, but as I gave a bottle away here and there my reputation grew.
One afternoon I had been aimlessly surfing the web and found a site dedicated to the making of Mead. Mead was the original fermented drink made by mixing honey and yeast and water. I experimented with adding a bit of fruit and spice and had settled into a routine of making batches in a rotation so we had a plentiful supply. As I said, I had given away a few bottles and now had a viable, albeit underground, side business. Any invitation was an opportunity to bring a bottle or two along. I think the Mead mellowed us as we ate. We never gulped or sped through our meals. They were leisurely meanderings, not hasty jaunts.
Guests to our home always commented on how relaxed we were and how time slowed down at our house.
Jan had been very well received and had an ongoing series of books that gave her time to take up gardening in ernest. Our cottage was surrounded by flowers and shrubbery. It looked like a story book. The pathway to our private dock was lined with wildflowers and an ivy covered picket fence. Over the years our neighbors had gotten older and wanted to move back to town. Since all of their grounds were summer properties, without permanent structures, we had bought a piece at a time and now owned all the lots halfway round the lake. That being said, Jan had unlimited privacy and she had taken to doing her gardening nearly au natural. Just enough cloth to insure her sense of propriety remained intact. So it was that the subject of size and adipose was finally broached. I was home early from a business trip. I had changed into shorts and skipped the shirt. As I walked out onto the deck, with a tall drink in hand, Jan was just rounding the bend, coming up from the lake. All she wore was a gauze sundress. It stuck to her like a second skin, wetted from her labors. I let out a low whistle as she neared. Damn if you are not the prettiest woman.
Pretty fat. Was her response. She stopped just short of the deck and out of reach. The afternoon sun shown behind her and made the sundress that was already shear, see through. I was instantly aroused. My shorts made my situation painfully obvious. I see that my fat does not bother you. She was smiling. This was a critical moment and I did not want to respond to quickly. I took a long pull of my drink and savored it. Well. Maybe one more slow sip. I have not lost any weight myself and you have not complained. It sounded weak but I was on the spot and clearly flustered by the beauty of my very round, nearly naked wife.
Smooth.
I...well...I...shit!
What? She was walking forward slowly. Is my big strong hubby shy? Now she was right in front of me. She peeled her sundress over her head and stood there in all her glory. Her tummy and breasts in a race to see which would stop jiggling first. You like all my fat, dont you? All this soft, squishy, cream, blubber makes you rock hard. Like lightning her hand was on my rigid manhood. She was pushing herself into me and talking about her fat the whole time. Several strokes and suggestions about how she got so fat and I was spilling my seed in my shorts. Now I was really embarrassed. Jan just laughed as I sat down heavily in a deck chair. I need a drink. she said and headed into the kitchen for a refreshment. I sat there amazed at what had just happened. I was almost waiting for the alarm to go off so I would wake up. If your going to write erotic fantasy about fat couples and weight gain and food, you might want to get a screen saver. Jan said as she lowered herself into a chair across from me. She had gotten a drink and a pair of panties but was still topless.
Sorry. Another weak answer but I was still reeling from the last few minutes.
For what? For having desires and fantasies? I am just thrilled they arent revolving around some 20 year old, skinny, cheerleader. As far as fetishes go this seems rather mild.
Fetish?
Honey, you have hundreds of saved stories and bookmarks, all centered on fat.
You searched my computer?
I sat down and your screen came on when the mouse jumped. Your story was up and I read it. I got curious so I went looking around. I will tell you I sent Substansia Jones an e-mail and would love to be a Adipositivity girl. I read a bunch of the stories and have chatted with several folks on Fantasy Feeder and some of the Dimensions pay site ladies.
And?
And. I find all of this very erotic. Just knowing that you find all of my fat to be so arousing is a relief. I have always wondered how you felt about me getting fatter. We have always had so much fun cooking and you never seemed to mind but I still worried once in a while.
I have not lost any weight myself.
True enough. She had slid closer and was gently rubbing my tummy. But men gain weight when they get married, it makes them look happy and taken.
But I am fat. Not married and plump. Fat.
Does that bother you? From reading your stories I rather assumed you were happy to be rotund.
I wanted to say something but all I could do was stammer and blush.
When I had drained a couple more glasses of Mead my voice returned. I admitted, for the first time out loud, that I did love fat. I told Jan how watching her get fatter and fatter had kept me in plenty of fantasy writing material over the years. We talked the evening away about how sexy I found her and why. She was very encouraging and understanding. This was like coming out only less acceptable. She listened and added a laugh or a smile here and there. I assume she let me prattle on until she thought I was well lubricated and giddy. I admit I was very buzzed when she brought up the Elephant in the room.
So we have well explored your love for my adipose. What about yours?
Mine? I tried to maintain my composure but I was too tipsy.
Yes yours. If my research is correct you, I assume you must be over 300 pounds. That would be a 140 pound gain, at least. Since you have been so revealing about your lust for my fat, I thought now might be a good time to talk about your own portly desires.
I am a bit tipsy Dear.
The better to free your inhibitions.
The better to make a fool of myself.
I have been sitting here for couple hours, nearly naked, listening to you gush about how you are enthralled by my blubber. I have read your stories about your own obesity driven lusts, and now your worried about embarrassment? I kept drinking as she kept talking. I think I deserve to hear it all and I know you have desires about your own adipose, so fess up! She was looking directly into my eyes and, even drunk I knew I was busted.
Okay, I do enjoy being chubby.
Honey you sailed past chubby 80 pounds ago. Maybe 100 pounds ago
Are you going to listen? She held her finger to her lip and zipped as I went on.
Okay I am fat, and getting fatter, and it excites me and scares me. I am driven by this primal urge that I am helpless to resist. I have tried to diet and work out but I always end up binging and feeling so ashamed.
The flood gates had opened and my alcohol fueled revelations poured out like water through a the Hoover Dam. Tears welled up in my eyes as I confessed to buffet lunches and sneaking food all day as I made sales calls. We went into my study and I showed her my secret files, filled with pictures of hugely obese men. Photo after photo of sagging paunches and droopy, fat, man boobs. Manhood never exposed because it was swallowed by rolls and rolls of fat. I went on about feeling my clothes getting tighter and tighter as I ate my way through the high 30 waisted range. I showed her cell phone pics of me buying my first 40 slacks. Each photo set showed the next size and the roll that was over the waist band of the last size before I upgraded. I paused as I looked for the file that contained the first photos of the first 50s. I had to start going to the Big and Tall once I left the 40s. This added to the sexual tension because the sales staff is all female and it is a small shop so they knew how often I was upsizing. They all tease me and envy you. They are open fatty lovers. You have to know I NEVER strayed!
Jan hugged me and told me she knew I was faithful. She also admitted that she had met the women at the store when she first found out about my secret. She said she had known for months but had never found a way to bring it up until tonight. I only had a few pictures left and we looked through them. The last shot was of my and in a pair of 54 jeans. So there you have it. I have no idea what to say now.
Do you want to be this fat?
Yes.
Do you want to be fatter?
This was too much. I grabbed the bottle of wine and walked back out onto the deck. I found my seat and eased back into it. Jan was behind me and slid her hands down and cupped my fat breasts while her belly brushed my shoulders. She flicked my nipples absently and said, Well. Come on now. No more secrets. I love you and want you to be happy so tell me the truth. Do you want to be fatter?
YES!...YES!...I want to be fatter and to eat and binge and have you talk about how fat I am and tease me lovingly about being such a piggy. There! There is the truth. I was shaken and spent and exhausted but it was finally all out in the open. I waited for her to be repulsed or laugh at me but instead she came around in front of me and kneeled down at my feet.
Relax Baby, I love you and am glad we will be able to share this. I have gotten fat with you and always worried you might wake up one day and decide I was ugly. Now that I know all this, I have a couple confessions of my own. For tonight, come to bed and let me love my chubby hubby.
We made love like it was the first time. No longer inhibited about my desire for her fat, I was free to concentrate on her arousal including her fat not in spite of it. I have to acknowledge that she had hidden desires of her own because she was an awakened minx. She licked and fondled and sucked my fat like fine chocolates. Each nibble a new, unknown delight. We finally fell asleep as the dawn rained in on our bed. We had ignited a new passion and longed to stay in the warm glow of it as long as we could sustain ourselves, but in the end exhaustion won out and we drifted into sated slumber. I dreamed in technicolor reality about Willy Wonka and our new home on the green lawns of Gumdrop Lane. Oompa Loompas rolled us to and fro. We were the game pieces in some sort of lawn game for them. I woke, slowly, late in the afternoon to find Jan gone from our bed. I smelled coffee and followed it. I had not even stopped to grab my robe. A quick pit stop in the bath and I was walking into the kitchen, naked as a newborn. Jan had found a silky housedress and was filling my cup. I should get my robe. No need, you look kinda cute and soft and fury.
So when do I hear your confessions?
I had hoped you were too far gone to remember that.
Oh no Missy! You got me hammered and loose lipped, but now it is your turn.
Okay...after breakfast.
Another bullet dodged. I had never seen such a breakfast outside of a buffet line. The food was wonderful and plentiful and I ate. I ate and ate and then had just a bit more. Now that I had no more secrets I felt free to gorge myself. Jan kept encouraging me and offering more and more. She even gave my tummy a gentle rub between plates. I did my best but finally I stopped. Enough. Enough, really? I should say so, you have eaten through everything we had. I suppose after last night you figure your free to get even fatter?
I thought...
Yes Dear, we are gonna get you fatter. Go sit in your chair. I put a towel in it so you can be comfy. Later we can get you dressed. I made it to my chair and groaned as I settled in. I was in a stupor as Jan began to tell me her secrets.
She had found out about my secret several months earlier and had been doing research on the subject. Just the way she researched her books. All sorts of facts and figures and diagrams. She paced back and forth as she explained her evolution after finding out my hidden desires. At first she had been shocked, but as she read and studied and chatted she began to get aroused. She found herself looking at fat men and imagining them fatter. She took to reading labels and calculating growth rates. Finally she explained her plans.
She had found a BMI calculator and figured since she was 54 and 350 pounds, her BMI was 60. As I was 511 I would need to weigh 432 pounds for us to be equal. I like the idea of equality so that will be our first goal. Once we get you that fat we will decide if your fat enough. Since you are already well on your way, I thought we would target 2 or 3 pounds a week as a good rate. That will allow us to reach equality within a year, give or take. Factoring a variable for any weight I may add as a byproduct of growing you a year and a half, tops. She stopped and looked at me as though I should respond.
You figured all this out? You sound like the decision is made and I am going to become obese.
You are already obese.
Okay, then obeser.
More obese.
That.
Yes, you are going to become more obese. Much more obese. We will need to journal extensively so I will be able to turn this into a series of pamphlets for feeders and encouragers. I will write a how to manual for turning your lover into a blimp, or a bigger blimp. She handed me a drawing. This is the working artwork. It showed a dirigible with a head and hands and feet. The blimp was tethered, the same as a parade balloon. The face on the blimp was mine. Funny. She just smiled and handed me a candy bar.
You really weigh 350 pounds? I would never have guessed.
I have a present for you. She handed me a package in plain brown paper.
What is this? I asked.
The future.
I unwrapped the gift and found a pair of 72 waisted Dickies.
If my math is correct you have gone from 170ish to 310ish and from 34 to 54 pants. If you continue to get fatter in the same places then these pants should fit you in the 430 range.
I held them up and was amazed at how huge they looked. Given that my present 54s looked awfully big on their own, these looked like circus fat man pants. I could not wait until they started to get snug. I was as excited as a kid at Christmas. You really think I can get that fat? Fat enough for these pants?
I do not think you can. I know you will! She was grinning ear to ear. It is about time for you to be the humongous fatty you are destined to be. I also bought you a cane. Your going to need some support.
She was patting my paunch when she added, This is as big as Dickies goes, after this I we may have to get creative.
