~BBW, ~SWG - How a californian tries to keep warm in freezy Canada
[Migrator's Note: This story is from the Alt.sex.weightgain newsgroup and was originally posted in 1996. The author claimed that this story formerly ran in Dimensions Magazine. The title was my Idea since it had none and I try any way possible to finally get some Rep.
]
I had met my husband Gary in college when we were both getting our Master's degree in Geology. We got married soon after graduation, and then we both got jobs for the same big oil company. Not only that, but by being
married, we managed to get sent to the same assignments.
The main purpose of our jobs was to look for oil. We went around the world studying soil samples and geological surveys to determine if there was oil and, if oil was found, whether or not it was ready to be processed. By "ready" I mean that sometimes oil is found that needs another million years in the ground to be fit for commercial use.
The first year we were married we were sent to the Middle East, the second year, California. So it was a cultural and climactic change for our third year when we were sent to far northern Canada. We knew it would often be
extremely cold for most of the year, but we didn't mind, we enjoyed the exotic locations. And it would only be for a year or two.
The setup was the same as the other places, only the temperature was different. The company owned a big lodge in the tiny village of about 200 people. The lodge was big enough for several employees and their spouses
to live in; it was almost a commune. Married couples had their own bedroom and bathroom, but we shared a kitchen and living area. The lab was a short hike from the lodge.
When we got there we met two other couples, Bob and Judy and Frank and Liz. I was the unusual wife because I was the only one who was employed by the company; Bob and Frank were geologists, while Judy was hired by the
company to be the lodge's cook, and Liz was a doctor who ran her practice from an addition built on the side of the lodge.
What also made me different was my size. Judy and Liz were both heavy-set, very matronly types, Judy weighed a little over 200 I guessed, and Liz was larger, at about 250. They were well proportioned, with full, round faces,
large breasts, bellies and behinds. They would never be considered flabby at all. They weren't ashamed of their figures at all, and despite the temperature, would walk around in shorts and t-shirts.
On sunny days,
they'd even wear one or two-piece bathing suits to go outside and sunbathe. I got cold just looking at them. I figured they were used to the temperatures.
But as it turns out, this was the norm for the town. As the two women
would take me out to show me around, I discovered that all the women were heavy-set, plump, or just plain fat.
I had silently admired buxom women, and wished for a full hourglass figure for myself, but since I had come from Los Angeles, where a bikini is on the state seal, I felt it necessary to fit in with a petite 110 pound 5'3" frame. All the other women on the beaches on L.A. would make me very diet conscious. So come dinner time, Judy would make us a huge dinner, and the men and women would eat it ravenously, I stuck with a small portion of vegetables and skim milk.
Things in our new location didn't work out well to begin with because after one week at the lodge I came down with a respiratory illness that put me out of commission, I didn't have to go to the hospital, but Liz ordered me to stay in bed, giving me antibiotics.
The only comfort I had was when my husband would come to bed with me at night and keep me warm.
The following week, just as I was getting over the infection, I was catching cold.
It was pretty obvious I wasn't making the adjustment to the climate at all. My husband felt bad dragging me up north, and me getting sick, but I told him I'd get over it, and adjust.
After almost three weeks of feeling bad, Liz was by to check up on me. She had just given me a physical and I was telling her how miserable I was feeling.
She sat down on the bed and said, "It's time I leveled with you Sue. It's been very obvious to me why you're always getting sick. I've just been hesitant to tell you because I'm not sure how you'd take it."
"Tell me," I said sitting up in my bed.
"You obviously can't adjust to the cold, and the reason for that is simple, you don't have enough body fat to keep you warm. I know you came from California, where everyone lives on cottage cheese and tofu; but it's just not practical to be skinny this far north." She then told me that all
the women in the area would be considered plump by American standards, but up here, it was practical.
Then she looked at me straight in the the eye. "If you want to stay here, and stay healthy, you're going to have to fatten up."
We talked it over some more, and at night. I thought about it during dinner. Later that night, I lied in bed shivering, when my husband came to our room. "Quick, come and keep me warm," I said. He climbed in bed with
me and we snuggled. I told him what the doctor said, "She suggested I put on 10 to 20 pounds. What do you think?"
Gary smiled, "If you're worried I won't love you anymore if you put on a little weight, that's just silly," he assured me. He said my health was more important than being fashionable in the states, and that he loved me, not my weight.
It's not that I wanted my husband's approval, but I did want to consult him though. And it seemed after talking to him that a person would never think twice if her doctor ordered her to lose weight, and here I was, reluctant to listen to a doctor tell me to gain weight, I realized she was
right.
I put on a bathrobe and walked down the hall. I knocked on Liz's door, and asked her what I'd have to do to fatten up. She told me she already worked out a menu for me, and that she'd give it to Judy, and to report to her
office first thing in the morning.
Monday morning, I woke up and went straight to Liz's office. She greeted me, and told me to take off my robe, she pulled out a clipboard and told me to step on the scale, she wrote down 110, then she took out a tape
measure and took my bust, waist and hip measurements while taking my temperature. She asked if I felt well enough to go to work today, and I told her I didn't, she then told me to go to the kitchen.
The men had just finished their breakfasts and had left for the lab. Judy was there though working the stove. "Just sit down," she smiled, "I have breakfast just about ready for you."
I sat at the table, and she put a large plate in front of me, it was piled high with big stack of french toast, sausage, and two apples, she then set a large glass of whole milk on the table, I looked at Liz who just came into the kitchen. "This is three times what I usually eat."
"You can't grow fat on just carrot sticks."
I smiled at her, picked up my fork, and as I cut through the french toast, thick syrup and melted butter drained out of it, two things I had always deprived myself of. I put the forkful in my mouth and it melt there. It was delicious. I decided that maybe this wouldn't be as bad as I thought.
With encouragement and prodding from the two other women, I finished off my plate, though it was tough going; toward the end I had to loosen the
sash of my bathrobe to accommodate my growing belly.
When I swallowed the last sausage, the women applauded me. I sat back in my chair with my hand on my taut belly. I smiled and let out a sigh. Liz told me to go to bed, and Judy would be up with lunch in about four hours.
"Tomorrow," she added, "if you feel well enough to go to work, we'll start on an exercise regiment; we want you to be fat and fit."
Judy brought up a huge lunch, then at night we sat down for a huge dinner.
The three couples sat at the table, as Judy put out our servings. No one really noticed that Judy was giving me extra servings, except for me husband, who looked at me and smiled.
The next day my routine was pretty much the same, only I had gone to work; but my schedule for the next few months was set: I'd first check in with Liz to get weighed and measured, Judy would have a huge breakfast for me,
then I'd go off to work. I'd come back to the lodge for a nutritious lunch, then back to work, then back home again for dinner. By then I was so full, everyday felt like Thanksgiving. But the feeling would pass after
dinner when the two women and I would go for a brisk walk or jog; or to the high school gym for some aerobics.
By Saturday morning; I was getting dressed, and it started to show. I tried pulling on my jeans but I couldn't. The flaps at the zipper wouldn't come together; there was just too much belly to fit in my jeans. My husband stepped out of the bathroom to see me struggling into my jeans. He
grinned at me, reached forward and rubbed my rounded belly, "Such a cute, sexy belly." he said.
"I'm trying to get ready to go to breakfast but I don't think I can get these pants on."
"That's okay," he said, "Slip out of them, and I'll bring you breakfast in bed."
He kissed me then left the room, I got back in bed and he came back with a Judy specialty, pancakes, some eggs, bacon, muffins and some apples.
He got in bed with me and watched me eat, "If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were getting turned on by me getting bigger."
He admitted it was a little exciting. We spent the rest of the day in bed, he would bring me my meals, watch me eat, or in some cases, feed me, then we would make love.
It was so easy to plump up in this town. Gary and I would go out for dinner, and my portion would always be bigger than his. Or we'd go out for ice cream, and my scoops were always bigger than his. We met other
couples, like the Makowskis, Willits and Walshes, who would invite us over their homes for diner. Appetizers were followed by a big dinner, and that was followed by a rich dessert. It was if the town was conspiring to fatten me up.
Over the next four months, I gained an average ten pounds a month. I was feeling too good to stop at 150, and under the advice of Liz, and
prompting form the neighbors, I continued to grow larger and larger. The fat that accumulated in my belly, breasts and buns did have an effect in keeping me warm.
In addition to buying new clothes, I was borrowing hand-me-downs from Judy and Liz. One day Judy and I were in Judy's closets, finding clothes for me, when I came across a photo album, I slowly opened it up and saw
pictures of a thin blonde and thin brunette. I looked closer, and realized it was Judy and Liz.
She noticed me looking at it, "Oh, they're just some pictures of me and Liz when we first came here three years ago."
I flipped the pages and and in each progressive picture, Judy and Liz filled out more and more.
"The town took care of us. They brought more food than we knew what to do with. It was just a matter of time before we filled out."
"You mean they intentionally fattened you up?"
She smiled, "With our full consent. It's custom around here. This goes back hundreds of years, the settlers in this town found out that the fatter women could survive better here; and have an easier time with child bearing, and raising. So it was important to fatten the women, and
encourage them to stay that way."
"I was right, the whole town was in on fattening me up."
"Sure didn't you know that? That's why your Gary requested this town." She blushed, "I thought you knew you were married to an FA. All the women who
take this assignment usually return with about 100 more pounds. That's been a turn off to some couples, but people like Judy and I really aren't fixated on our weights, so we didn't mind when our husbands were assigned here."
An interesting development, I thought.
Then I turned the page of the photo album again. Toward the end I saw pictures from a party, "What's this?" The party was in a hall and all the town's chubby women were wearing one and two piece bathing suits.
She smiled, "Well I guess it's time you learned a little about another tradition around. "When a girl turns 16 they start fattening her up until
her 18th birthday party, or until she gets to 195 pounds or so. Then they have a 'growing out' party for her. The idea is to throw an all-day party around her, put her on a scale and feed her until she hits 200 pounds.
It's kind of like a coming out party, but this symbolizes her growing out of her girlish clothes and becoming a woman. It's a big community event. And they also throw it for newcomers. These pictures are from my party. The women dress scantily to show they're not ashamed of their bodies, and they're comfortable with the climate."
"Doesn't this seem weird to you?"
"Not as weird as an American coming out party, or wedding, or prom where a girl has to starve herself to fit into a skimpy gown."
"How come there haven't been any growing out parties since I've been here?"
"There have been," she said, "Only you haven't been invited because you haven't had a coming out party of your own. The only women invited are already over 200 pounds."
That night I confronted Gary who confessed that he knew that all the women who returned from this village came back fatter. And he had intentionally requested this assignment because he wanted me to stop being so weight
conscious, and wanted me to plump up a little, but he was afraid to ask me.
I told him that he was silly for not telling me all this, but he was right, I was too weight conscious, but now, things would be different, and I would do everything I could to have a growing out party thrown for me.
In the following months I redoubled my efforts, eating all of Judy's meals, then snacking in-between. At night before going to bed, I would have some chocolate ice cream with chocolate syrup, my favorite. Soon I had a beautiful round protruding belly, heavy, globular breasts and curvier hips. It was fun checking in with the doctor each morning, standing on her scale and watching the numbers climbs, as she found it more and more difficult to wrap a tape measure around my belly.
Six months later, I had done it, I was up to 195. Liz congratulated me, and told the townspeople. The party was scheduled.
On my big day, Judy got me ready. In her bedroom she had given me the traditional garb for this occasion. It was a little skimpy. It was a tight bikini bottom, a bikini top and a bodice that had straps that went around
my neck, and it laced up in the front up to where the bikini top's cups
met. She laced me up tightly, confining my round, soft belly. When I asked her what it was for, she told me that when I reached 200, to untie the bodice, to symbolize my growing out of my old clothes.
The party was in the town hall. I arrived late as was the custom for the guest of honor. At first my clothes made me feel a little self-conscious until I saw all the other women in one or two-piece bathing suits, proudly
showing off their bellies. A large reclining chair was set up on an industrial scale set in the center of the hall. I was led to it by the mayor. When I sat down, a digital read out-above my head read 195.
"Let the feasting begin," the mayor said. A band started playing, and food
was carried out from the kitchen and brought to all the tables. It was like any wedding reception or banquet. The only difference was the cause of celebration and rituals.
The woman of each household was to bring a dish to share with the community, and a dish for me. The women lined up; fat, chubby women lined up to admit me to their club. Fortunately, Judy told me what to expect, so I hadn't eaten the whole day. Now I was hungry. Mrs. Makowski brought up a large plate of pasta with cheese sauce. She sat the the side of the scale and fed me with a fork, putting each delicious forkful in my mouth. After a few minutes, I finished the dish, and rubbed my tummy.
The crowd cheered as the number on the scale advanced to 196.
Then Mrs. Willits brought up a large chicken dish with potatoes, which she fed me slowly, it was very good - and the crowd watched as I polished off the plate. Once again, the scale advanced one number. I was almost there.
Then Mrs. Walsh came up with a warm apple pie. She cut it up into slices and fed it to me a wedge at the time. I didn't think I could do it, but the crowd applauded when she put the last slice in my mouth. And my bodice
was straining at the laces.
I looked up at the scale, it read 199.
And I was so stuffed I couldn't move. I felt like a beached whale. My belly was packed full, but held in check by the bodice. I don't think I could eat another bite, until my husband showed up, with a mixing bowl
full of ice cream--with chocolate sauce, my weakness.
He smiled at me, I opened wide and he spooned me the ice cream, each creamy bite melted in my mouth. Just as I thought my bodice would explode,
He undid the tie and my full belly broke forth, giving me the room to eat some more.
Finally I took one more swallow and the number flashed 200. Everyone cheered.
I stood up, proud to be part of the community that took me in. I was wearing the bodice like a vest, and my unfettered belly hung over my bikini bottom, I rubbed my belly and thanked everyone, telling them I would take a bow if I weren't so full.
Months passed and my weight settled in about 210 pounds. Which was probably my ideal weight anyway. Gone were the colds, and I could walk around the house, and outside in shorts. Gary liked it best when I walked
around in hot pants and an unbuttoned shirt, tied in a knot right beneath my breasts. That way he could see my belly and breasts jiggle.
Word came from Corporate that another couple would be moving into the lodge. Liz introduced me to Francesca, the wife. She was a gaunt little thing.
We shook hands, and she made a sneeze. "Excuse me," she said, "I'm
not accustomed to this weather yet."
"Sit down," I told her, I pulled a carton of ice cream out of the freezer "I think I have just the thing for you."
[Migrator's Note: This story is from the Alt.sex.weightgain newsgroup and was originally posted in 1996. The author claimed that this story formerly ran in Dimensions Magazine. The title was my Idea since it had none and I try any way possible to finally get some Rep.
]The Party
(Also posted as "AcclimatiSize")
by Stephe1605 (aka Thomas Richards)
(Also posted as "AcclimatiSize")
by Stephe1605 (aka Thomas Richards)
I had met my husband Gary in college when we were both getting our Master's degree in Geology. We got married soon after graduation, and then we both got jobs for the same big oil company. Not only that, but by being
married, we managed to get sent to the same assignments.
The main purpose of our jobs was to look for oil. We went around the world studying soil samples and geological surveys to determine if there was oil and, if oil was found, whether or not it was ready to be processed. By "ready" I mean that sometimes oil is found that needs another million years in the ground to be fit for commercial use.
The first year we were married we were sent to the Middle East, the second year, California. So it was a cultural and climactic change for our third year when we were sent to far northern Canada. We knew it would often be
extremely cold for most of the year, but we didn't mind, we enjoyed the exotic locations. And it would only be for a year or two.
The setup was the same as the other places, only the temperature was different. The company owned a big lodge in the tiny village of about 200 people. The lodge was big enough for several employees and their spouses
to live in; it was almost a commune. Married couples had their own bedroom and bathroom, but we shared a kitchen and living area. The lab was a short hike from the lodge.
When we got there we met two other couples, Bob and Judy and Frank and Liz. I was the unusual wife because I was the only one who was employed by the company; Bob and Frank were geologists, while Judy was hired by the
company to be the lodge's cook, and Liz was a doctor who ran her practice from an addition built on the side of the lodge.
What also made me different was my size. Judy and Liz were both heavy-set, very matronly types, Judy weighed a little over 200 I guessed, and Liz was larger, at about 250. They were well proportioned, with full, round faces,
large breasts, bellies and behinds. They would never be considered flabby at all. They weren't ashamed of their figures at all, and despite the temperature, would walk around in shorts and t-shirts.
On sunny days,
they'd even wear one or two-piece bathing suits to go outside and sunbathe. I got cold just looking at them. I figured they were used to the temperatures.
But as it turns out, this was the norm for the town. As the two women
would take me out to show me around, I discovered that all the women were heavy-set, plump, or just plain fat.
I had silently admired buxom women, and wished for a full hourglass figure for myself, but since I had come from Los Angeles, where a bikini is on the state seal, I felt it necessary to fit in with a petite 110 pound 5'3" frame. All the other women on the beaches on L.A. would make me very diet conscious. So come dinner time, Judy would make us a huge dinner, and the men and women would eat it ravenously, I stuck with a small portion of vegetables and skim milk.
Things in our new location didn't work out well to begin with because after one week at the lodge I came down with a respiratory illness that put me out of commission, I didn't have to go to the hospital, but Liz ordered me to stay in bed, giving me antibiotics.
The only comfort I had was when my husband would come to bed with me at night and keep me warm.
The following week, just as I was getting over the infection, I was catching cold.
It was pretty obvious I wasn't making the adjustment to the climate at all. My husband felt bad dragging me up north, and me getting sick, but I told him I'd get over it, and adjust.
After almost three weeks of feeling bad, Liz was by to check up on me. She had just given me a physical and I was telling her how miserable I was feeling.
She sat down on the bed and said, "It's time I leveled with you Sue. It's been very obvious to me why you're always getting sick. I've just been hesitant to tell you because I'm not sure how you'd take it."
"Tell me," I said sitting up in my bed.
"You obviously can't adjust to the cold, and the reason for that is simple, you don't have enough body fat to keep you warm. I know you came from California, where everyone lives on cottage cheese and tofu; but it's just not practical to be skinny this far north." She then told me that all
the women in the area would be considered plump by American standards, but up here, it was practical.
Then she looked at me straight in the the eye. "If you want to stay here, and stay healthy, you're going to have to fatten up."
We talked it over some more, and at night. I thought about it during dinner. Later that night, I lied in bed shivering, when my husband came to our room. "Quick, come and keep me warm," I said. He climbed in bed with
me and we snuggled. I told him what the doctor said, "She suggested I put on 10 to 20 pounds. What do you think?"
Gary smiled, "If you're worried I won't love you anymore if you put on a little weight, that's just silly," he assured me. He said my health was more important than being fashionable in the states, and that he loved me, not my weight.
It's not that I wanted my husband's approval, but I did want to consult him though. And it seemed after talking to him that a person would never think twice if her doctor ordered her to lose weight, and here I was, reluctant to listen to a doctor tell me to gain weight, I realized she was
right.
I put on a bathrobe and walked down the hall. I knocked on Liz's door, and asked her what I'd have to do to fatten up. She told me she already worked out a menu for me, and that she'd give it to Judy, and to report to her
office first thing in the morning.
Monday morning, I woke up and went straight to Liz's office. She greeted me, and told me to take off my robe, she pulled out a clipboard and told me to step on the scale, she wrote down 110, then she took out a tape
measure and took my bust, waist and hip measurements while taking my temperature. She asked if I felt well enough to go to work today, and I told her I didn't, she then told me to go to the kitchen.
The men had just finished their breakfasts and had left for the lab. Judy was there though working the stove. "Just sit down," she smiled, "I have breakfast just about ready for you."
I sat at the table, and she put a large plate in front of me, it was piled high with big stack of french toast, sausage, and two apples, she then set a large glass of whole milk on the table, I looked at Liz who just came into the kitchen. "This is three times what I usually eat."
"You can't grow fat on just carrot sticks."
I smiled at her, picked up my fork, and as I cut through the french toast, thick syrup and melted butter drained out of it, two things I had always deprived myself of. I put the forkful in my mouth and it melt there. It was delicious. I decided that maybe this wouldn't be as bad as I thought.
With encouragement and prodding from the two other women, I finished off my plate, though it was tough going; toward the end I had to loosen the
sash of my bathrobe to accommodate my growing belly.
When I swallowed the last sausage, the women applauded me. I sat back in my chair with my hand on my taut belly. I smiled and let out a sigh. Liz told me to go to bed, and Judy would be up with lunch in about four hours.
"Tomorrow," she added, "if you feel well enough to go to work, we'll start on an exercise regiment; we want you to be fat and fit."
Judy brought up a huge lunch, then at night we sat down for a huge dinner.
The three couples sat at the table, as Judy put out our servings. No one really noticed that Judy was giving me extra servings, except for me husband, who looked at me and smiled.
The next day my routine was pretty much the same, only I had gone to work; but my schedule for the next few months was set: I'd first check in with Liz to get weighed and measured, Judy would have a huge breakfast for me,
then I'd go off to work. I'd come back to the lodge for a nutritious lunch, then back to work, then back home again for dinner. By then I was so full, everyday felt like Thanksgiving. But the feeling would pass after
dinner when the two women and I would go for a brisk walk or jog; or to the high school gym for some aerobics.
By Saturday morning; I was getting dressed, and it started to show. I tried pulling on my jeans but I couldn't. The flaps at the zipper wouldn't come together; there was just too much belly to fit in my jeans. My husband stepped out of the bathroom to see me struggling into my jeans. He
grinned at me, reached forward and rubbed my rounded belly, "Such a cute, sexy belly." he said.
"I'm trying to get ready to go to breakfast but I don't think I can get these pants on."
"That's okay," he said, "Slip out of them, and I'll bring you breakfast in bed."
He kissed me then left the room, I got back in bed and he came back with a Judy specialty, pancakes, some eggs, bacon, muffins and some apples.
He got in bed with me and watched me eat, "If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were getting turned on by me getting bigger."
He admitted it was a little exciting. We spent the rest of the day in bed, he would bring me my meals, watch me eat, or in some cases, feed me, then we would make love.
It was so easy to plump up in this town. Gary and I would go out for dinner, and my portion would always be bigger than his. Or we'd go out for ice cream, and my scoops were always bigger than his. We met other
couples, like the Makowskis, Willits and Walshes, who would invite us over their homes for diner. Appetizers were followed by a big dinner, and that was followed by a rich dessert. It was if the town was conspiring to fatten me up.
Over the next four months, I gained an average ten pounds a month. I was feeling too good to stop at 150, and under the advice of Liz, and
prompting form the neighbors, I continued to grow larger and larger. The fat that accumulated in my belly, breasts and buns did have an effect in keeping me warm.
In addition to buying new clothes, I was borrowing hand-me-downs from Judy and Liz. One day Judy and I were in Judy's closets, finding clothes for me, when I came across a photo album, I slowly opened it up and saw
pictures of a thin blonde and thin brunette. I looked closer, and realized it was Judy and Liz.
She noticed me looking at it, "Oh, they're just some pictures of me and Liz when we first came here three years ago."
I flipped the pages and and in each progressive picture, Judy and Liz filled out more and more.
"The town took care of us. They brought more food than we knew what to do with. It was just a matter of time before we filled out."
"You mean they intentionally fattened you up?"
She smiled, "With our full consent. It's custom around here. This goes back hundreds of years, the settlers in this town found out that the fatter women could survive better here; and have an easier time with child bearing, and raising. So it was important to fatten the women, and
encourage them to stay that way."
"I was right, the whole town was in on fattening me up."
"Sure didn't you know that? That's why your Gary requested this town." She blushed, "I thought you knew you were married to an FA. All the women who
take this assignment usually return with about 100 more pounds. That's been a turn off to some couples, but people like Judy and I really aren't fixated on our weights, so we didn't mind when our husbands were assigned here."
An interesting development, I thought.
Then I turned the page of the photo album again. Toward the end I saw pictures from a party, "What's this?" The party was in a hall and all the town's chubby women were wearing one and two piece bathing suits.
She smiled, "Well I guess it's time you learned a little about another tradition around. "When a girl turns 16 they start fattening her up until
her 18th birthday party, or until she gets to 195 pounds or so. Then they have a 'growing out' party for her. The idea is to throw an all-day party around her, put her on a scale and feed her until she hits 200 pounds.
It's kind of like a coming out party, but this symbolizes her growing out of her girlish clothes and becoming a woman. It's a big community event. And they also throw it for newcomers. These pictures are from my party. The women dress scantily to show they're not ashamed of their bodies, and they're comfortable with the climate."
"Doesn't this seem weird to you?"
"Not as weird as an American coming out party, or wedding, or prom where a girl has to starve herself to fit into a skimpy gown."
"How come there haven't been any growing out parties since I've been here?"
"There have been," she said, "Only you haven't been invited because you haven't had a coming out party of your own. The only women invited are already over 200 pounds."
That night I confronted Gary who confessed that he knew that all the women who returned from this village came back fatter. And he had intentionally requested this assignment because he wanted me to stop being so weight
conscious, and wanted me to plump up a little, but he was afraid to ask me.
I told him that he was silly for not telling me all this, but he was right, I was too weight conscious, but now, things would be different, and I would do everything I could to have a growing out party thrown for me.
In the following months I redoubled my efforts, eating all of Judy's meals, then snacking in-between. At night before going to bed, I would have some chocolate ice cream with chocolate syrup, my favorite. Soon I had a beautiful round protruding belly, heavy, globular breasts and curvier hips. It was fun checking in with the doctor each morning, standing on her scale and watching the numbers climbs, as she found it more and more difficult to wrap a tape measure around my belly.
Six months later, I had done it, I was up to 195. Liz congratulated me, and told the townspeople. The party was scheduled.
On my big day, Judy got me ready. In her bedroom she had given me the traditional garb for this occasion. It was a little skimpy. It was a tight bikini bottom, a bikini top and a bodice that had straps that went around
my neck, and it laced up in the front up to where the bikini top's cups
met. She laced me up tightly, confining my round, soft belly. When I asked her what it was for, she told me that when I reached 200, to untie the bodice, to symbolize my growing out of my old clothes.
The party was in the town hall. I arrived late as was the custom for the guest of honor. At first my clothes made me feel a little self-conscious until I saw all the other women in one or two-piece bathing suits, proudly
showing off their bellies. A large reclining chair was set up on an industrial scale set in the center of the hall. I was led to it by the mayor. When I sat down, a digital read out-above my head read 195.
"Let the feasting begin," the mayor said. A band started playing, and food
was carried out from the kitchen and brought to all the tables. It was like any wedding reception or banquet. The only difference was the cause of celebration and rituals.
The woman of each household was to bring a dish to share with the community, and a dish for me. The women lined up; fat, chubby women lined up to admit me to their club. Fortunately, Judy told me what to expect, so I hadn't eaten the whole day. Now I was hungry. Mrs. Makowski brought up a large plate of pasta with cheese sauce. She sat the the side of the scale and fed me with a fork, putting each delicious forkful in my mouth. After a few minutes, I finished the dish, and rubbed my tummy.
The crowd cheered as the number on the scale advanced to 196.
Then Mrs. Willits brought up a large chicken dish with potatoes, which she fed me slowly, it was very good - and the crowd watched as I polished off the plate. Once again, the scale advanced one number. I was almost there.
Then Mrs. Walsh came up with a warm apple pie. She cut it up into slices and fed it to me a wedge at the time. I didn't think I could do it, but the crowd applauded when she put the last slice in my mouth. And my bodice
was straining at the laces.
I looked up at the scale, it read 199.
And I was so stuffed I couldn't move. I felt like a beached whale. My belly was packed full, but held in check by the bodice. I don't think I could eat another bite, until my husband showed up, with a mixing bowl
full of ice cream--with chocolate sauce, my weakness.
He smiled at me, I opened wide and he spooned me the ice cream, each creamy bite melted in my mouth. Just as I thought my bodice would explode,
He undid the tie and my full belly broke forth, giving me the room to eat some more.
Finally I took one more swallow and the number flashed 200. Everyone cheered.
I stood up, proud to be part of the community that took me in. I was wearing the bodice like a vest, and my unfettered belly hung over my bikini bottom, I rubbed my belly and thanked everyone, telling them I would take a bow if I weren't so full.
Months passed and my weight settled in about 210 pounds. Which was probably my ideal weight anyway. Gone were the colds, and I could walk around the house, and outside in shorts. Gary liked it best when I walked
around in hot pants and an unbuttoned shirt, tied in a knot right beneath my breasts. That way he could see my belly and breasts jiggle.
Word came from Corporate that another couple would be moving into the lodge. Liz introduced me to Francesca, the wife. She was a gaunt little thing.
We shook hands, and she made a sneeze. "Excuse me," she said, "I'm
not accustomed to this weather yet."
"Sit down," I told her, I pulled a carton of ice cream out of the freezer "I think I have just the thing for you."
