BOTH Appetites Grow by Upto336 (BBW(Mult)/BHM Eating, Romance, ~MWG)

Dimensions Magazine

Help Support Dimensions Magazine:

upto236

Member
Joined
Jul 20, 2009
Messages
13
Location
,
BBW(Mult)/BHM Eating, Romance, ~MWG - A growing gordita coaches a feedee and his feeder

Appetites Grow
by Upto236

“Maria, I’ll have the carnitas burrito platter and three chorizo tacos, and two Mexican cokes”

“Here or to go?”

“Here, please.”

“$16 is your total”, said the counter girl. She was a delicious little empanada alright. 5’2” at the most, a beautiful, small face on a small frame that had been engulfed in layer upon layer of soft pillowy fat, to the point where she smiled up at me from within the valley created by cleavage and fat shoulders as she rested her large breasts on the counter and made change of my twenty dollar bill.

“Bueno. I’ll bring it to your table when it’s ready.”

I took a seat at the side of the counter where I could see her bustle about as I waited for my food. Short as she was, she was constantly up and down on her toes reaching for takeout containers, and she jiggled and bounced with each movement. Making it the more comical, her top was about fifty pounds too short it seemed, bunching up under her arms and beneath her bosom as she moved so that her belly, from her navel to the apron of fat hanging to her mid-thigh, kept popping out, causing her to stop what she was doing and attempt to cover up.

Finally she put on an actual shop apron that had been hanging on a hook nearby, which gave her a modicum of cover. The string, that she tied behind her, quickly settling into the crease between thick love handles and very well padded hips.

When the apron ended the show, I looked about at the other patrons. To my right, two rows away, a pair of women sat with a pile of nachos between them. From the looks of it, one of them, the chunkier of the two, was doing the most damage to the pile, and being egged on by her companion. She was soft—not plump, but curvy, with a pretty face and blonde hair.

“You’d better hurry— our entrees will be out before you know it” I heard her say to her friend, whose response, with her mouth full, was lost in translation.

With that, the counter girl brought out my food. “Excuse me mister, but did I get it right—you wanted the carnitas burrito platter AND three tacos? For you alone? That is a lot of food, and today is taco Tuesday- you get a fourth taco free.”

“That’s right, it’s for me” I saw the blonde look our way “I’m a big eater”.

The counter girl batted her eyelashes, putting down the food

“Dios mio, it’s not for me to say” she said, “but if you eat like that every day, it will take its toll on you quickly—I know first-hand” running her hands across the apron covering her big belly, lifting it up and out, and letting it drop and bounce.

I smiled at her “Who could blame you? Surrounded by such wonderful smells as you work so hard, you must work up an appetite.”

I patted my own stomach, which conveniently growled “and appetites cannot be denied”.

“True, but when encouraged, appetites grow—take me for example. When I started here two years ago, I weighed 111 pounds. Just being around food and tasting everything, I gained fifty pounds the first two months. Manny the owner, said “you are such a good worker, I need three of you” and with that, he doubled my salary and let me eat whatever I wished; I added another fifty just as quickly.

"Manny gave me another raise; shortly thereafter we started dating, and he started making an extra pan of flan for me every day; by three months ago, I weighed as much as three of who I was when I started working, and now I’m another half again, and Manny and I are engaged. It’s all been wonderful, but my hunger is constant now, I can’t stop eating.” She readjusted her belly, causing her whole body to ripple.

Just talking to this little plumpette was getting me aroused, even as I heard that her acreage had already been bought and paid for

“That’s wonderful. Congratulations. You see, men like meat on the bones.” I offered.

“Some women do too. Eat like you are today, and one will seek you out” she said over her shoulder, as she walked away, her tremendous ass shaking as she moved one fat thigh around the other. Manny certainly had sculpted a beauty.

I looked down at my own gut. I poked it, and gave it a squeeze. Actually, it was starting to get bigger lately—220 as of a few days ago. Oh well. Like she said, some women like this, I thought. And I dug into the small mountain of Mexican food.

I looked up from my daze as Maria brought the entrees to the two women I’d spied earlier. The chubbier one had indeed finished the nachos, and was looking a little glassy eyed and squirmed in her seat as the huge enchilada platter was placed before her; her skinnier friend, on the other hand, was gesturing to me as she spoke to Maria, and gave me a quick glance and a coy smile. I went back to eating, once again piqued.

After I’d plowed through my tacos and had made a big dent in the carnitas burrito platter, Maria came to my table, carrying a large order of three meat nachos, with what looked like extra cheese.

“You see what I mean?” she said, putting the order down in front of me “these are from your new fan over there”.

“You’re kidding.”

“No, no. She saw me talking to you and heard a bit of what we were saying, so she said to tell you that she was one of those that liked some meat, so she thought she’d send some over.”

I looked over, and the blond gave me a cute little wave and a sly smile. From the looks of it, her friend was in a stupor, having consumed as much as I had to this point, and the blonde had put half of her own entrée on her plate too. I waved back, nodded a thank you, and with that the blonde practically jumped from her seat and came over to my table. Maria raised her eyebrows and waddled away.

“Hi. I’m Laura. I couldn’t help overhearing that you were a man with an appetite. I love men with appetites. Could I join you?”

“Sure, have a seat—but what about your friend?”

“Sarah? She’s still got her work cut out for her over there, she won’t mind.”

“My name is Bob, pleased to meet you.”

“How’s your food Bob? I saw what Maria brought you, you’re a big eater.”

“So you decided to up the ante by sending over a family-sized tray of nachos. I say that’s unusual.”

“Like I said, I like a man that can eat, and I wanted to see whether you’d measure up.”

“I’m going to try.” Boy was she pretty. Just a little chubby, a slight love-handle and belly pooch under large breasts when she sat down and crossed her long legs “would you like some of my nachos? From the looks of it, Sarah is eating most of your dinner.”

“I’m good for now, thanks. Besides, this is all about you.” She moved my empty platter aside, and pushed the nachos in front of me.

“What exactly does that mean?”

“Let’s cut to the chase-Bob, I’m what one might call a feeder—I like watching people eat, enjoy watching them gain weight as I subtly encourage them to eat. At work, I make sure that every birthday in the office is celebrated, that every meeting has donuts, keep lots of candy around my desk. I’ve several girlfriends there that are each three or four sizes larger thanks to me— I take them out to lunch, buy them sugary cream filled coffee drinks—any calorie laden landmine that presents itself. I’ve been at it a long time.

"Sarah over there is a friend from college: we were roommates for three years, during which time I helped her gain almost fifty pounds. She lost most of it after graduation three years ago. She’s in town for a few days, and I slipped into my old habits, and she fell right in, eating everything I’ve put in front of her the last three days, she’ll go home with her buttons snapped along with her willpower.

"When other friends drop by, they leave with their pants tighter, and if they stay long enough, they go in a new, bigger outfit to remember their visit. But they’re all just hobbies—I’m looking for a man that loves his food, will relish the care and affection I’ll lovingly apply, and isn’t afraid of the effect my proclivities might have on him. Bob—are you that guy?”

I sat for a moment, wordlessly devouring her monologue along with the plate of nachos before me. You can’t tell, dear reader, but I’d just eaten a mountain of food, and I was stretched full-up as I picked up the last chip, gesturing with it, about to speak.

At that moment, Maria walked up, carrying six servings of flan.

“I heard your speech, Miss. Maybe you both should have some dessert while he thinks over your offer—you especially Miss—real men like meat on the bone.”

“That’s right” I said “will you ‘relish the care and affection’ that I’ll lovingly reciprocate? Then, Laura my dear, we might just hit it off.”

“Me? Oh I don’t know” she blushed “I mean, I’m too fat already!”

She grabbed the aforementioned negligible love handle quickly, distastefully, and threw her hands up defensively.

“Silly, skinny girl” Maria chimed in “whoever put that idea in your head should be flayed.

"Men like this," she declared, again lifting her belly up and out for a dramatic effect.

“Thanks Maria, but I can handle this” I said “so let me get this straight— you love fat, adore it, yet you’ve denied yourself the indulgence that brings it into being; you’re a feeder, you naughty girl, because you like to see what mischief you can cause those around you and then look saintly thin when you stand next to your unwitting targets.”

I took a plate of the flan, held it up to my mouth, and slurped it up like a jello-shot, and then proceeded to shoot three more rapid-fire. “Tell you what- I’ll show you the pleasure that comes with satisfying your appetites—you can impose your fetish on me if you’ll agree to slowly allow your guilty pleasure to fill you out, just a bit, and see whether you like it. But to seal the deal, those last two flans are yours.”

With that, I picked up a napkin, wiped my mouth, pushed back my chair, leaned back and unbuttoned my jeans.

It was all she could take. She picked up the first flan, shot it down like a pro, picked up the other, did the same, gagging a little. “Okay, I’m game. Let’s get out of here.”

“What about Sarah?”

“She drove, and she has a key to my place.”

I got up. Man I was swollen, my center of gravity shifted for the massive meal that now hung two inches out over my unbuttoned pants. You know you’ve eaten a lot when you feel your stomach stretching out sideways. I un-tucked my shirt to allow some more room to breathe, put my arm around Laura, waved goodbye to Maria, and we sauntered out, Laura rubbing my belly as we went, giddy as a schoolgirl.

“We should stop somewhere and get some supplies” she said.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I need baking supplies, groceries, and some snacks to hold you over until I’ve fixed something proper.”

“I did just eat dinner, and a big one at that.”

“Silly boy, that was just the start, in a week, that load will seem like an appetizer.”

So we stopped at a supermarket. We chatted as she emptied the bakery department into our cart, stocked up on dry goods, dairy, frozen foods, meat, poultry, deli, pasta, bread, soda, you name it. Turns out that Laura was a hotel major at that college she and Sarah attended, with a—jackpot—minor in culinary arts! And her office job was actually as an event planner for a museum, which meant that she was constantly reviewing menus, going to tastings—her life actually revolves around tasty, delectable amuses bouches.

Turns out she’s funny, too, but had altogether a terrible body image for someone who, I tell you, turned every head as we walked the aisles, with her hands straying to my swollen gut every chance she got.

I paid and loaded the car. Total time about two hours, and strangely, I was already getting hungry, so I dialed for two pizzas that we picked up on the way back.

We got to my house and unloaded the perishables before we settled on the couch, the pizzas before us on the coffee table.

“Okay, let’s get comfortable. Let’s get naked” I said, pulling my polo over my head, kicking off my jeans. She demurred.

“Come now, what did you picture would happen? Let’s see the goods” I said. Bashfully, she unbuttoned her top and took off her bra, revealing fantastic breasts-c cups definitely-defying gravity in the airspace above a little roll of fat that formed as she pulled off her skirt. In just her panties, the little roll on her belly folded over the front edge of the elastic and retreated back before swelling again just a little at her side. Her thighs were long, though soft, and her ass full though not large. Perfect place to start, I thought.

“I need to start running” she said, looking down.

I grabbed her chin gently, and said “the only running you’ll be doing is around the kitchen, getting food for the two of us”

“Well, for you maybe”

“Okay, I’m not going there now. Feed me pizza.”

And she did. By midnight, some three hours later, I’d outdone myself, eating one slice shy of 1½ pies. All along the way, I’d picked off pieces of the meat lover’s toppings, meatball, sausage, pepperoni and bacon, feeding them to her, and making her eat two slices of her own. Greasy with pizza, my stomach stretched to a size never before witnessed, and Laura’s pouting out after having consumed two desserts and for her an unusually large dinner, we started groping one another.

“Do you have a scale?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I want to see where you’re starting from”

Uggh. Fetishes.

“Okay, let’s go in the bedroom” nice recovery, I thought.

We went in, I stepped up. 226. Wow—about five pounds more than last time I’d check two weeks ago.

“I’m going to have you at 240 by the end of the month”

“14 pounds? In two weeks? Hmmm. That’s a lot, no?”

“Oh it’ll be fun” she said teasing me, reaching for my balls and giving them a squeeze.

I spun her around, squeezed her breasts, dropped one hand and caressed her belly.

“Your turn nextm” I whispered.

She reluctantly stepped on the scale. “129” she said with dismay in her voice.

“Don’t worry, your target for our next weigh-in is just 133”

I kissed her then and squeezed her bottom. She grabbed and squeezed my love handles. We climbed into bed, and began our groping again. She hopped out of bed for a minute and came back in covered in whipped cream. I licked it all off, she reapplied where it counted and I licked that off, too, making her groan in delight. Taking the can from her I filled my belly button and ran a thick trail down to the tip of my cock. She gobbled up those calories without hestitation. Eventually, she ended up on top, riding me to completion as she prodded and pinched my belly, while I marveled at her large breasts and converted all that food into fat.

And so it went for several weeks. She stuffed me to capacity before she left for work every morning, and put me to sleep engorged every night. After two months, I’d already hit 280. Working from home as I did, she began to “assign” me meals, facetiming me from work to watch me eat them, and in that third month I hit 313.

She really was an excellent feeder; during that whole time I never ate the same meal twice. My rolls had rolls of their own. I was fat, and she hadn’t any intention of letting up.

One day, I went out for some work errands, and found myself near the tacqueria where we’d met. My stomach growled, so I went in. There was Maria—she had to have put on another fifty pounds if she’d gained an ounce. Her belly hung to her knees, and standing on a small crate back some three feet from the counter she was leaning over to perch her enormous breasts across the counter. She could hardly reach the cash register around them, or see over them for that matter. Her ass rested against the shelf behind her, she nearly filled the entire space behind the counter.

“Maria, I’ll have the carnitas burrito platter and three chorizo tacos, and two Mexican cokes”

“Here or to go?”

“Here, please.”

“$16 is your total”.

I took a seat at the side of the counter where I could see her bustle about as I waited for my food. She moved more slowly now, pausing every thirty seconds for more flan, that she ate from a huge tray with a serving spoon.
When my food was ready she shuffled over, her fat undulating like a rough sea, finally looking at my face. A glimmer of recognition and then she exploded, dropping my food on the table and tackling me with a huge bosomy hug.

“Dios MIO! Tu es mucho Gordo! Gordo! What did I tell you! Appetites grow, no! Eat eat gordo, you look famished! I’ll join you.” And she shuffled over to get her flan and returned, breathing heavy from the exertion.

She looked me up and down, “you gained what, a hundred pounds? Bueno! I myself am on my way to being five little Marias. But I think you had two appetites, si? Yes, two appetites, that’s right. And one is still starving—that little flacca you left with, I saw her the other day too—if you are this big, she’s not keeping up her end of the bargain.

"Maybe she's a little softer, but just a poco, nothing like this” she grabbed my belly with both hands, lifting it and dropping it with her signature bounce “her appetite grows too, like my Manny, and because of them, soon neither of us will fit through the door. Don’t worry, we deliver, but you should have company by now—how can you be satisfied as a man with that stick when all this makes you like a rock down here?”

She groped under my belly finding my, well, truly aroused apparatus.

She was right. In the three months, I’d barely managed to get Laura to put on twenty pounds. She was 146 last week, the last time she’d consented to being weighed. As my physical appetite had soared, she was better able to distract me from enforcing her end of the bargain, and I’d become complacent. It was true, I wasn’t really satisfied, disappointed as I waited every day for her to jump on top of me and have those breasts of hers rest on my belly-- while I was growing up and out, her mams weren’t keeping pace, and neither was the rest of her. At the pace we were going, I’d be 400 pounds before she even hit size 14.

“Maria, what should I do? You're right—I’m totally thrilled on one hand, but on the other…”

“Life is like scales, they should balance. You must make her want to catch up.”

“How?"

“Whisper to her”

“What?”

“Just whisper to her. While she sleeps. Softly tell her that she is too skinny, suggest that she should worry about losing you to someone like me. Take her hands and rub them on her body, telling her how much happier she’ll be with a soft belly, a big bum, fat legs, fat tits. Whisper that she should feel guilty for not keeping up her bargain. Tell her that deep down she’s hungry, and must feed her appetite with herself instead of others."

"You think that will work?"

"Si. Definitely. You’ll see--it will take a week or two, but she’ll start to eat, and by the end of the month, she’ll be unstoppable.”


End of Part 1- stay tuned...

(Contiued in post 7 of this thread)
 

upto236

Member
Joined
Jul 20, 2009
Messages
13
Location
,
Ah- Coca Cola imported from Mexico. Unlike U.S. Coke, Mexican Coke is made with sugar cane rather than corn sweeteners. Passover Coke is similar, but only sold around the Jewish high holy days. Plus, Mexican Cokes come in classic glass 12 oz. bottles.
 

Matt L.

Well-Known Member
Joined
Jan 14, 2006
Messages
402
Location
,
I hadn't the clue, thank you very much for the explanation.
I appreciate it. By the way, I'm enjoying the story.
 

ffaboots

Member
Joined
Jan 9, 2006
Messages
104
Location
,
This is really fun so far, and with some great turns of phrase: "...her acreage had already been bought and paid for," or "My rolls had rolls of their own," for example. Hot.
 

upto236

Member
Joined
Jul 20, 2009
Messages
13
Location
,
After my initial order, Maria had insisted on quadrupling it yet again, and them feeding me right there in the restaurant—a total of 15 tacos and 5 burritos—almost five pounds of pork, plus the 20 tortillas that held it all together and about a pound of beans, another of cheese and other toppings, and then about a half-gallon of flan- “to fill in the gaps”.

As I ate, Maria ate with me, putting away almost three full trays of flan. I had loved watching her stuff herself, watching her rolls and curves ungulate as she moved and gestured, watching her belly shake as she laughed; I had loved the thoughts that had accompanied her gluttonous display—the realization that today was just another day at the office for Maria, and how much larger she was than the last time I’d seen her, and wondering where on her body the gallons of flan would accumulate as new fat—I now understood that I really did have an appetite that wasn’t yet fulfilled—that of watching a woman grow herself alongside me—and the more I thought about it, I understood that the slow approach Maria and I had discussed wouldn’t work, and that somehow, I had to take control and redirect Laura’s fetish inwards.

“Honey, I’m home” she called out, dropping one shopping bag to hold open the door as she carried in six others, “we had an event cancel today- the honoree had a heart attack last night, so we had a banquet for 250 people that, well, I just couldn’t let go to waste, so I made some doggie bags.”

“Six shopping bags worth? That’s a lot of foil swans” I asked, ambling into the room from my office, my shirt open, my belly hanging well out in front of me, my thick love handles jostling with the movement of my arms.

“No silly-there’s sixteen more in the car- I’ll run down and get the rest, and then we’ll get started with your stuffing!” she said, walking up to me and running her hands over my exposed belly “my, someone’s had a head start- you’re tight as a drum! What happened? Did you fall asleep after breakfast and get to your lunch late?”

“No, actually, I dove in early because I had errands, and then I stopped for, well, a snack along the way. I just got back myself.”

“Good boy- I’ll be right back”

Well of course I was stuffed already, and now for round four. Still and all, stuffed as I already was, the smells wafting out of the shopping bags were driving me crazy, activating that appetite that had grown as Maria had predicted; 22 bags of spare catering seeming a good idea to Laura certainly meant that her appetite for feeding was increasing exponentially, and, as Maria had said, the distance between me and the doorframe was going to diminish considerably if I let Laura put all of that food into me over the course of the weekend—or within the next few hours, as she probably planned.

Don’t get me wrong, bulking up wasn’t a bad thing, Laura’s quick caress reminded me of how much I loved how fat I was getting—I had actually been measuring myself just after my “snack” with Maria. I was huge- 64 inches around, and 322 pounds. However, I was feeling a pang of guilt—seeing Maria drove home how much I really wanted Laura to start taking up more space.

Laura came back up with a tremendous load of bags. I watched her rush about, eager to begin moving the load into my fat factory. As she moved, I pictured Maria doing the same movements, silhouetting Maria’s shape around Laura’s form in my mind. I did an assessment of her form, seeing how her clothes still fit. Her supposed 17 new pounds were barely perceptible—maybe her cute little love handle no longer played peek-abo, and maybe her large breasts jiggled a little more than we’d started, but it was hard to tell. God, so far to go: time to put a plan into action.

“WOW- what a haul! It all smells so good! How could you resist diving in as you drove home?” I said, opening the first box- about 1000 bacon wrapped rumaki- I grabbed a handful, shoved it in my mouth, grabbed another, threw that arm around Laura, pulling her skinny frame to my bulk, and started feeding her with the other hand as she squirmed and objected.

“No, no—these are only for you darling—I can barely fit in my outfit.”

“Nonsense—I want you bursting out of that blouse, like this” pulling her buttons apart, exposing her large breasts in a push-up bra. I pinned her to the wall with my gut, popped another four rumaki into her mouth, “I want your sleeves to fit like sausage skins; your belly to be big full and round;, your bottom to split your seams; your hips to grow wide; your ass to be immense.”

I leaned in over her rack resting on my belly for a kiss, as I reached under my belly, undid both of our pants. I pulled hers off of her, and lifted her up, clad now in just bra and panties, carried her to the bed, and put her down as I sprawled out on top of her. I reached into her nightstand and pulled out handcuffs and cuffed one wrist to the bed.

“No, no, Bob, I want you fat, not me—besides, I am fat! I weighed 146 a week ago—that’s 17 pounds more than when we met.”

I got up, went to the bathroom and got the scale, and put it at the side of the bed “Look at what I’ve done for you—you’ll remember that last night I weighed 313. Now, I weigh 322. I ate over nine pounds of food today, and we’re just starting dinner. I revel in the affection you give me, absorb every loving morsel, and lock it away on my frame; and now I want you to do the same. Step on it” I said, gesturing to the scale. She complied, and the needle went only to 138. I wrapped the tape measure around her, she sucked in, and I measured her at 26 inches.

“So you’ve lost weight this week. Tsk tsk- hardly keeping up your end of our deal. So I’ve gained 100 or so pounds in three months, and you netted just nine. I saw Maria today- She insisted on feeding me, and herself, all afternoon. You have to see her: she’s gained almost a whole you in the time since we were there together, and so have I. I loved every minute watching her try to sate her appetite, but it made me feel guilty. I need you to do what you do so well to yourself: feed yourself full, and then keep going until you’re ready to burst. Tonight I’m going to help you get started: for every five morsels you feed me with your free hand, you’re going to feed yourself one, and I’m going to feed you two. You’ll do this because if you don’t, I’ll stop eating, leave, and look for a woman like Maria. You’ll lose me, you’re greatest success, who you know is just getting started.”

Laura looked into my eyes as if she was hypnotized, reached into the box of rumaki, and started eating them like popcorn. I nuzzled into her bosom and suckled her breasts, letting my hands roam her body, whispering as I touched each part of her how much better it would be if there was more of it. She settled into feeding me the succulent appetizers alternately with herself.

Two hours later, we had plowed through three shopping bags. I was stretched beyond belief, and Laura looked like she’d swallowed a beach ball. I got out the tape measure.

“Let’s see, I’m at 67 inches—three inches more than we started, and five more than this morning. And you’re at…34 inches. Wow: eight inches more than before. How do you feel?”

“Like I’m going to pop” she said, "but I love it, you were right" She reached out to caress my belly “67 inches? Really? You’re as round as I am tall—five foot seven. That’s amazing. Each of those shopping bags had about ten pounds of food in them—hop on the scale darling”

“331. That’s 9 more pounds—your turn.”

She rolled over slowly, feeling her belly slosh, groaning as she did so, trying to stand with her one wrist still cuffed and her center of gravity somewhat shifted from earlier.

“146”

“So we’re back to where you begin. Time for a drink.”

I went to the kitchen, found two half gallons of vanilla ice cream, and popped them in the microwave on high. I pulled a tub of weight gain formula that she’d been dousing me with, and dumped the half the container into each of two pitchers, and added a quart of whipping cream to each. When the ice cream was melted, I added one container to her pitcher and one to mine, and went back to the bedroom.

“Now lay back, I’m going to help you drink this” I held the pitcher to her mouth and started pouring swiftly “swallow quickly” I said “we don’t want to make a mess”.

She complied and within about ten minutes, she and I had each chugged the gallon of cream and weight gain powder.

“Was what I think was in that in that?”

“Yes”

“How much?”

“All of it, half a gallon of ice cream and a quart of cream.”

“Oh my, that’s about 18 thousand calories—five, almost six pounds of fat”.

“We’ll have you caught up in no time. Let’s see what your shake did for your volume—wow, you’ve stretched another three inches—36”, Ready for the entrée?”

“What, are you kidding, I can’t hold any more.”

“I’ll be the judge of that” and I went out to get three more bags of food.
At midnight, three hours later, I was near a food coma. I weighed myself, and was shocked at the 349 pounds the scale purported and by a waist that the tape now put at my own height—71 inches.

I felt like I’d swallowed a sack of concrete. Laura on the other hand, could no longer move. Laying on her back, her arms and legs thrown wide, and her stomach was swollen like the Octomom; it arched over a foot off of the bed, and looking down at her, I could see that she was swelling out at her sides as well, a taut well-drawn bow from her ribcage to her hips.

The tape said that her new circumference was 42 inches, and she was drifting off to sleep. I went down on her, teasing her with my tongue and tweaking her nipples, getting her close to orgasm. Then I stopped, and climbed on top of her. She squealed and started writhing underneath me, begging me to get her off.

The pressure of her rock hard belly against my own had me completely aroused, and I slipped myself into her. I took a handful of hors d’oeuvres—pigs in blankets—and shoved them in her mouth, and began rhythmically bringing us both to full orgasm. We collapsed, completely relaxed, and let our metabolisms take charge.

We slept until two the next day. I awoke first, looked over at Laura lying there and spooned her from behind, whispering my pleasure as I explored her body with my hands. Her digestive system had certainly worked overtime—her stomach had softened and deflated, but she was transformed, her hips and ass were meatier, and her sides had two chunky rolls that weren’t there last night when I stripped her. Her upper arms were softer, as were her thighs, and her gut was squishy with new fat. She woke as I was pinching her, running my hands from her belly back to her love handles.

“I’m FAMISHED” she said as she yawned and stretched, realizing as she did that she was still cuffed to the bed “can we undo this now?” I got up to get the key. Looking up at me standing over to release her from her captivity, she said “Geez Bob, you’ve HUGE—how much did you eat last night?”

I too, had converted much of the 27 pounds of food into fat, and, looking in the mirror, it showed, my gut drooping over my waistband substantially more than I remembered it doing two days ago. However, I didn’t have time for an inventory— nature called, and I ran jiggling to the bathroom.

The fifteen minutes I was away gave Laura ample time to assess her new ample-ness

“My goodbess,” she shouted from the other room “what did you do to me? I’m enormous! Everything is fat! My arms, my legs, my belly—my boobs are huge! Ackk! I weigh 162 pounds! You fed me 28 pounds fatter in one night! I’m a blimp!”

I came out of the bathroom. “One, you're no where near a blimp yet, but I'm working on it. Two, if I’m any indication, you're about to leave a lot of it behind—look, I’m just 340 now, and I was almost 10 pounds heavier when we went to sleep. My waist is back down to 65 inches.”

“You’re ‘just’ 340—you’re ‘down to’ a 65 inch waist—you did some real damage there yesterday fella, and that was all your own doing. You gained 27 pounds after breakfast, and made me do the same. Take it from a veteran feeder, that’s impressive!”

“Go to the reading room and then we’ll get an accurate assessment of my abilities.”

“Fair enough, but after that you’re taking me to brunch, because I’m STARVING”

“Funny, you don’t look as if you're starving- anymore that is.”

A few minutes later she emerged from the bathroom, showered and naked “you’re in trouble mister- I have folds where I never had them before, my boobs are half again what they were when I went to work yesterday—look at me!”

“Hop on the scale.”

The numbers jumped forward, and settled in at “156- how can that be? I held onto most of the weight.”

“One, you were 146 just two weeks ago, so you probably only dieted off water weight, and kept the fat. Two, you had a 20K calorie milkshake, and that sticks almost instantly. Three, you were breaking a promise, and karma is a bitch. Here, let me examine my handiwork more closely.” I fondled her breasts. “They’re definitely larger. How’s your bra?”

“Feels like a training bra on Dolly Parton”

I moved on “…and your love handles—hooray! Finally: something to hold on to. But wait, what’s this? Hip chub? Yes, you have substantially fatter hips, and…wow—that’s some new meat in that butt. And I’ve stretched your stomach considerably” I said, patting her tummy “so that your appetite will continue to grow.”

And it was so. Despite being able to suck in her gut to get a 29 inch measurement before breakfast, her capacity had reached a new high that demanded satisfaction. We went to brunch and she order a tall stack of pancakes, a dozen fried potato pierogies, a double order of kielbasa, toast, coffee and a strawberry shake, but it wasn’t enough to sate her. We stopped at a bakery on the way home, and she ate four large chocolate chip cookies and two chocolate croissants.

When we got home, she attacked the banquet food like it was invading the country; by the time dinner rolled around, she had blown through the appetizers and put down the filet mignon entrées for a table of ten before throwing in the towel and turning her attentions back to me, feeding me with a frenzy for six hours—I had enough of the beef for twenty tuxedoed museum gala attendees, and enough dessert for them and their dates.

As I ate, we both grew hornier and hornier, Laura rubbing my increasing expanse and massaging me so that I would make room for as much as possible. We ended the evening with me flat on my back looking up at a much thicker gal, whose belly bounced on top of mine as her large jugs shifted to and fro as she rode me, wide as a horse as I now was.

I grabbed at a fatter set of hips for leverage, and flipped her over to go from behind, where I could see the new expanse of her flank, knowing that I was just seeing the start of things to come.

The next morning, Sunday, we were up earlier than the day before, starving again, and repeated the breakfast menu that had worked so nicely. We went and bought two more jugs of the weight gain formula, and some appetite enhancers, and then to the grocery so my growing chef could restock her supplies—we got a look when we asked the manager to keep the receipt and deliver everything on it again to my apartment in four days.

We ordered Chinese when we got home, such a tremendous amount of food that it came with ten sets of chopsticks. We fed each other as we watched the shows on HBO, at about eleven, we cracked or fortune cookies—hers said “A rising tide floats all boats”, which we found appropriate, given the circumstances.

The next morning, I surveyed her progress. Again, her metabolism had worked overtime, converting tons of food into luscious adipose. She was softer and rounder, with more and deeper folds--in just two days she'd packed on another 12 or 15 pounds easily. At this rate, I could have her fully packed belly stretched out to fifty or so inches by late October, and then let Halloween candy do it's black magic; then I'd truss her up like a turkey for Thanksgiving, and then with Christmas coming, the goose would be getting fat...um um um, she was delicious to look at and the future almost too wonderful. I jumped back in bed and cuddled up to her soft curves. She awoke, smiled, and began her own inventory of me.

"My goodness Bob, your rolls are thicker than my bicep"

"My lovehandles?"

"No, and their not lovehandles anymore. More like inflatable rafts. I'm talking about the two rolls above them. I'm going to try and get them to merge into one really thick one by the weekend."

"How are you going to do that? You have to go to work"

"That gives me an idea" she said.

Laura was giddy with excitement as she got ready. She scarfed down a box of crullers from the grocery bakery as she mixed up batter for what would be a mountain of waffles that we shared. Right after breakfast, Laura quit her job. Having seen what the museum paid out, and having a list of contacts already impressed with her event planning capabilities, she was determined to make a go of it as a caterer. She figured that she could start the business from home, and that meant that she would have me there to “sample” the food as she made it. She rationalized further that she could cut down on her wardrobe expenses; as she put it “keeping up appearances will probably be best be left to shopping within a few days of an event. I mean, really, I just jumped like five sizes in a weekend”. It was true, she had, and she leapfrogged over quite a few in the next few weeks.

About a month later we were out together running errands for our businesses when we passed the taqueria where Maria worked, and we went in. Maria looked up— her chins and her neck now almost blended completely with her shoulder fat—her eyes lit up, and she hastened to move her substantial bulk, side-stepping from behind the counter, unable to turn in the confines, knocking the napkin holder from the counter on the way with her cleavage —
ny had created a wonder! Maria. She bent down to pick up the dispenser, leaning forward and balancing on her huge gut before dropping to her kneesit was only fair, as her belly had reached the floor before her knees got anywhere near it. Another signature move for Senora Maria! There was no way on earth she could have performed her old standby of lifting her belly and letting it bounce--the earth would have shaken off it's axis.

She spoke, looking up from under my overhanging paunch as she heaved herself upright again.

“Bobby, gordo, how good to see you! Mira, you have grown! Who’s this with you? Finally you’ve found someone suitable—no, no—la flaca! It’s you! The skinny one! Well, not so much anymore, no? You finally saw the light! What has he done to you? Almost 100 pounds? So quickly? Who knew you had the potential!”

“117 actually” Laura giggled. She looked radiant at 246 pounds, all soft curves from her large breasts bulging out from her low cut tee to her big belly and soft love handles peeking out from beneath its hem, to her wide hips, tremendous ass and fat thighs in tight jeans that looked painted on “He got me started alright, but this” she lifted her belly up and dropped it so that it bounced, unwittingly inheriting Maria's old signature move “is my own handiwork—Bob wasn’t gaining fast enough, so I had to do something with all the food I cooked”.

“Not gaining enough? He’s twice the man you found here that day!”

“That’s about right, just a little under--422 last night” I said, patting my stomach “and you Maria, you look fabulous—You’re the opposite of a statue—instead of chipping away to find the beauty, you grow more for me to admire, all of it well marbled.”

“Dios mio—you sound like Manny! He says that the harder it gets to reach around me, the more time he needs to make sure all of me gets loved! I am, as of this morning, five times the woman he hired 2 ½ years ago. Flaca, what is your name?”

“Laura”

“Laura darling, so Bobby isn’t enough for you yet? What do you think? Another 100 for him, 150 for you?”

“The way he talks about at you? I need to keep at least that 250 just for me, and about the same for him—to keep him focused my way!”

“Laura honey, I’m not done yet—appetites grow—Manny’s as well as my own.”

“Then I have my work cut out for me. I have to catch up and pass you”

“Bueno. I like your style, but I won’t make it easy. While we’re at it, we will make Bobby twice again what he is today.”

“Ladies, enough chatter. Maria how about something to eat?”

“Si, si. Sit down, I get the flan while the carnitas burritos get made. Between the three of us, Manny will need to roast another couple of pigs.”

“Appetites are wonderful things, aren’t they?” said Laura, snuggling into my side and squeezing my belly. I put my arm around her, and squeezed my own chunk of heaven, hoping that our appetites would go on growing forever.

THE END
 

Latest posts

Top