~BBW, Extreme Eating, Romance, ~MWG - A son discovers a beautiful secret about his late parents, and also better understands himself
When my father Michael died early this summer, he left everything to me. My mother passed away nearly fifteen years ago. For years my wife and I have been begging Dad to clear out some of the accumulated junk of a lifetime in his house; still, he kept procrastinating.
It was up to me to dispose of everything after the funeral so we could sell the house. I took two weeks off from work, got a ten-yard dumpster and set to work.
I was able to sell most of the big stuff at a tag sale and most of what was left went to the Salvation Army. About the only things I kept were a dozen boxes of papers, some of which I thought might be important. It was while going through some of these papers that I found a small batch of letters which made my jaw drop. They were letters my mother had sent to my father during a time in the mid-50s, not long after they were married and before I was born. My father was away on business for four months and during that time, my mother discovered something about herself.
I read the letters over and over again.
Dear Michael,
I spent last night at a dinner party at my mother's house. The only thing that could have made the evening more exciting for me would have been your presence. I missed you terribly, thinking of you every moment, even though you've only been gone one day. Before I even realized it, I had decided to go along with your request, and from the moment of that decision onward, I felt a freedom such as I've never felt before.
Ever since you left, I've been thinking of nothing but our last conversation. I can still hardly believe that you said what you did. The idea that the thing I find most imperfect about myself is one of the things you most admire is, admittedly, difficult to understand and even more difficult to believe. It is only because I know how much you love me and how much I love you that I even allowed the discussion to continue.
If I had been in the least uncertain of your affection and sincerity, I should have asked you to take me home then demanded you leave our house for good. And, yet, if that had occurred, I should have missed out on an adventure. It is one that I am sure will be as enjoyable to me as it's effects will be to you.
My writing of this decision, though, is only a confirmation from my mind of something my body decided before I even knew it. But I know I am getting ahead of my story. So, back to the party.
Mother had asked me to please arrive at five so I could help her organize. The company was to be four couples from my father's office, including his boss. He's up for a promotion, as you know, so it was all very important that everything be perfect.
Unfortunately, at five-fifteen, when the kitchen girl was supposed to be there, she called instead and told my mother that she would not be able to come. Mother started crying in frustration, but I saved the day by suggesting that instead of being a spare wheel, I could be the kitchen help.
So, there I was, in a kitchen filled to the rafters with food, feeling lonely and missing you already, and wondering how I would survive the next four months without you. I don't even think I realized it for quite some time, but, as I was putting the canapés and hors d'oeuvres on the serving platters, I was picking at them, nibbling here and there. I started feeling full, but told myself it was okay, since I'd eaten nothing since my chicken-salad sandwich at lunchtime.
The company began arriving at six, and my mother was able to mingle and entertain, because I had things under control in the kitchen. Frankly I feel I was doing much better than any help would have. I was also eating much more than any help would have. Every time I brought back an appetizer tray with just one or two items on it, I put them in my mouth instead of in the garbage. No one was the wiser.
I served salad and soup, eating a bowl of each in the kitchen while I plattered the roast beef and the side dishes. Dad came in the kitchen to carve, since the table was just barely big enough for the ten of them. He then went back out, while I made up the plates, helping myself to a piece of roast beef here, a spoonful of mashed potatoes there, some onions in cream sauce, a dinner roll, some more roast beef.
I had to loosen the apron for the second time before I brought out the main courses. When everyone was served, Mother insisted that I make up a plate for myself and join them. And this is when I made my decision. I was already completely stuffed, having eaten the equivalent of two or three dinners already.
I could have said that I'd eat later or that I wasn't hungry, but instead, I thought of you. I thought of your hand lovingly rubbing my soft belly. I thought of your request, strange as it was, that I gain some weight because you'd always fantasized about me being fat.
I realized that by denying you your fantasy, I'd be denying myself pleasure, and what would be the purpose of all this denying? I told Mother that I'd join them as soon as I finished powdering my nose.
In the bathroom, I hurriedly removed my girdle, feeling a great relief as my already full belly swelled out, free of its confinement. I tried to look at myself through your eyes, seeing the roundness of my stomach as "beautiful and womanly", to use your words. I must confess, I cannot see the beauty in it yet, but I am willing to believe that you do.
Returning from the bathroom, I found that Mother had placed a large helping of roast beef, potatoes and all of the other side dishes on a plate for me. I ate quickly, not wanting to still be eating when everyone else had finished. We chatted for a little while as, with great effort, I managed to eat everything in front of me.
I could feel my stomach testing the skill of the seamstress who sewed my dress. I got a little thrill as the conversation turned to your whereabouts. After explaining your absence, I helped myself to another serving of nearly everything, filling my belly to bursting as I talked about you. While clearing the table, it was all I could do to hold my belly in.
Nonetheless, Mother noticed the effects of my overindulgence, and told me that you would be home in just four months and that I shouldn't let myself go.
I told her it was just a phase. I was sure I'd settle down and get control in plenty of time for your return.
She kissed me and told me that, of course you'd be thrilled just to see me after so long an absence. Still, I should try to make it a special homecoming by looking just the way you'd want me to.
With that in mind, I treated myself to four slices of pie! I'm sure Mother had no idea just how her advice would inspire me! When I got home, I felt fuller than I've ever felt before. I could do nothing but fall asleep hugging my round stomach.
I'm writing this in the morning, with my stomach still feeling quite full. As soon as I finish this letter, I am going to eat a large breakfast, then plan out my meals for the rest of the week. I'm sure I won't be eating as much at each sitting as I did last night, but I shall endeavor to overindulge whenever I can.
I cannot wait to hear from you let alone see you again.
Love always,
Your Linda
My Dearest Michael,
I must say, your letters are quite "erotic". I am only worried that someone
might read them and think that we are some decadent "hipsters". Nonetheless, I couldn't bear to miss a word of your thoughts.
My "project" is going along quite well. I have gained seventeen pounds all told and I am bulging out of every piece of clothing I own. I have even outgrown the clothes I bought just two weeks ago. I cannot imagine how fat I will be by the time you come home in three months. Actually, two months, three weeks and four days.
You asked about my weight and measurements, so here they are. My bust (I think that is the first time I have ever written that word!) measures 37 inches at its fullest, while my chest measures 33. I am overflowing my brassiere. My waist (at least what there is left of it!) measures 32 inches and my hips are measuring just a hair under 40 inches. I can barely get my panties up over my thighs! When I got on the bathroom scale this morning, it told me I weighed 159 pounds.
My weight gain is not going unnoticed. When I went to the grocer yesterday, I met Diane from around the corner. We got to talking and she said that something about me looked different. She asked if I had changed my hair. I could see that she was glancing at my belly that was very obvious in my sheath skirt. I told her that my hair was the same, but that I'd gained a few pounds.
She said she's gotten quite large since she married Henry and that we should probably try reducing together. We agreed to meet on Sunday evening to prepare our "diet" for the week. She said that was a good night since Henry would be bowling, so I told her to come over our house and I would cook us some dinner. We'll be weighing and measuring ourselves then, so I'll refrain from doing it myself until then. Maybe there'll be some "news" to report!
Your loving wife,
Linda
Dear Michael,
Diane has gone home and I am writing to let you know of my evil nature! I feel a little guilty, but that doesn't take away from the fun!
I spent the whole day cooking like a fiend, so when Diane arrived at six, dinner was all prepared. She immediately caught the aroma of baking cake, so
I wasted no time in setting forth my lie that would be the premise for the entire evening.
I told her that I'd read an article just that week in one of the women's magazines which said that the most successful diets involve a great deal of preparation. One of the most important preparations, I told her the article claimed, was a pre-diet feast.
She said she hadn't heard of that before.
I told her that a scientific survey proved that our "willpower" works best when it has some recent event to react against. When one feasts oneself into discomfort immediately before beginning a reducing plan, our bodies remember how terrible they felt after the feast and so they have no problem with the deprivation of a reducing diet.
She said that sounded logical, and I almost believed myself! However, I knew that the article I'd read had actually shown the opposite!
I suggested we weigh and measure ourselves before the meal, so we both removed our clothes, then our girdles, until we were stripped down to our bras and panties. Although we were practically the same height, Diane appeared much heavier than me. When I took out the tape measure, it was confirmed.
Now, I feel a little funny giving you such private details about another woman, but I'm only doing it because you know how big she is and I want you to have something to compare my gain with. Diane measured 41 inches at the bust, 37 at the waist and 47 inches at her hips. She weighed 192 pounds. My measurements were only a little different from earlier in the week: 371/2-33-40. My weight belied such small increase in those measurements, because it had increased by nearly five pounds to 164.
Once we'd finished measuring, we spent the rest of the evening overindulging and having a great deal of fun. We started with franks-in-blankets as appetizers, moved on to a creamy mushroom soup, then a spinach and bacon salad, followed by a meatloaf ring with creamed spinach, buttered broccoli, and sautéed potato balls. There was three pounds of ground beef and pork in the meatloaf, but we left not even a crumb! We had a good-natured competition in all of our gorging and if anyone had peeked in our window, they would have been treated to the very unusual sight of two fat women feasting in their underwear!
While we ate, we planned our skimpy meals for the week, then, while looking over our plan of deprivation, the two of us devoured an entire chocolate fudge layer cake, giggling as we fought to scoop up the last scrap of icing with our fingertips! Neither one of us could move after that, so we just sat back groaning about how full we were and how fat we were and how we'd have no trouble if we never ate again.
When we were finally able to move, I suggested we weigh and measure again. I said it would be very encouraging if we started from this ridiculously inflated point and therefore, could see an immediate loss.
Diane agreed and it was back to the measuring tape, where the score was this way. Diane: 41-39-47, 198 pounds. Linda: 371/2-36-401/2, 170 pounds! (I'm not sure why my hips increased, but I'm sure we measured correctly.
After she'd struggled back into her clothes, we agreed to meet the next Sunday night at her place for another weighing and measuring session, but WITHOUT the feast!
Now, I'm going to finish this letter and go to sleep, dreaming of you.
I Love You Always,
Your (fat) wife, Linda
Dear Michael,
Time is rushing by. I cannot believe that it is less than two months until you come home! I know I had great reservations about gaining weight for you. Now I am having so much fun both getting fat and being fat, that I feel a great pressure to redouble my efforts in the time remaining. I want you to be bowled over when I meet you at the airport. I want to feel your passion consume me the way I am consuming every bit of food in my path!
The extra money you sent in your last letter went to good use. I bought three new pair of panties in the largest size they had. Next time I need a bigger size, I will have to go to the Matron's department! I also purchased two new bras at the Sears store, since they are the only ones that carry a 40 bra with a D-cup. With the leftover money, I bought two pounds of Whitman's chocolates and finished them all in two nights!
Diane has canceled our Sunday night meeting again. She's been doing this now for the last three weeks. In fact, since the first feast at our house and the next meeting at her house where we each had gained five pounds instead of losing, we have not gotten together. She says that this is a bad time for her since Henry and his brothers are feuding over their father's will, and she just can't concentrate on a diet. I told her she should let me know whenever she's ready to start over again and we'll have another "reducing feast." She agreed that it was a very enjoyable way to start a diet.
Well, that's all for now. I dream of you every night, imagining your strong hands all over my soft body. I know you will be home soon, but I wish you were here now.
Love always,
Your (hungry) wife
P.S. I almost forgot my measurements: 381/2-37-421/2, 179 pounds!
Apples Don't Fall Far FRom rthe Tree
by Sean McAron
by Sean McAron
When my father Michael died early this summer, he left everything to me. My mother passed away nearly fifteen years ago. For years my wife and I have been begging Dad to clear out some of the accumulated junk of a lifetime in his house; still, he kept procrastinating.
It was up to me to dispose of everything after the funeral so we could sell the house. I took two weeks off from work, got a ten-yard dumpster and set to work.
I was able to sell most of the big stuff at a tag sale and most of what was left went to the Salvation Army. About the only things I kept were a dozen boxes of papers, some of which I thought might be important. It was while going through some of these papers that I found a small batch of letters which made my jaw drop. They were letters my mother had sent to my father during a time in the mid-50s, not long after they were married and before I was born. My father was away on business for four months and during that time, my mother discovered something about herself.
I read the letters over and over again.
Dear Michael,
I spent last night at a dinner party at my mother's house. The only thing that could have made the evening more exciting for me would have been your presence. I missed you terribly, thinking of you every moment, even though you've only been gone one day. Before I even realized it, I had decided to go along with your request, and from the moment of that decision onward, I felt a freedom such as I've never felt before.
Ever since you left, I've been thinking of nothing but our last conversation. I can still hardly believe that you said what you did. The idea that the thing I find most imperfect about myself is one of the things you most admire is, admittedly, difficult to understand and even more difficult to believe. It is only because I know how much you love me and how much I love you that I even allowed the discussion to continue.
If I had been in the least uncertain of your affection and sincerity, I should have asked you to take me home then demanded you leave our house for good. And, yet, if that had occurred, I should have missed out on an adventure. It is one that I am sure will be as enjoyable to me as it's effects will be to you.
My writing of this decision, though, is only a confirmation from my mind of something my body decided before I even knew it. But I know I am getting ahead of my story. So, back to the party.
Mother had asked me to please arrive at five so I could help her organize. The company was to be four couples from my father's office, including his boss. He's up for a promotion, as you know, so it was all very important that everything be perfect.
Unfortunately, at five-fifteen, when the kitchen girl was supposed to be there, she called instead and told my mother that she would not be able to come. Mother started crying in frustration, but I saved the day by suggesting that instead of being a spare wheel, I could be the kitchen help.
So, there I was, in a kitchen filled to the rafters with food, feeling lonely and missing you already, and wondering how I would survive the next four months without you. I don't even think I realized it for quite some time, but, as I was putting the canapés and hors d'oeuvres on the serving platters, I was picking at them, nibbling here and there. I started feeling full, but told myself it was okay, since I'd eaten nothing since my chicken-salad sandwich at lunchtime.
The company began arriving at six, and my mother was able to mingle and entertain, because I had things under control in the kitchen. Frankly I feel I was doing much better than any help would have. I was also eating much more than any help would have. Every time I brought back an appetizer tray with just one or two items on it, I put them in my mouth instead of in the garbage. No one was the wiser.
I served salad and soup, eating a bowl of each in the kitchen while I plattered the roast beef and the side dishes. Dad came in the kitchen to carve, since the table was just barely big enough for the ten of them. He then went back out, while I made up the plates, helping myself to a piece of roast beef here, a spoonful of mashed potatoes there, some onions in cream sauce, a dinner roll, some more roast beef.
I had to loosen the apron for the second time before I brought out the main courses. When everyone was served, Mother insisted that I make up a plate for myself and join them. And this is when I made my decision. I was already completely stuffed, having eaten the equivalent of two or three dinners already.
I could have said that I'd eat later or that I wasn't hungry, but instead, I thought of you. I thought of your hand lovingly rubbing my soft belly. I thought of your request, strange as it was, that I gain some weight because you'd always fantasized about me being fat.
I realized that by denying you your fantasy, I'd be denying myself pleasure, and what would be the purpose of all this denying? I told Mother that I'd join them as soon as I finished powdering my nose.
In the bathroom, I hurriedly removed my girdle, feeling a great relief as my already full belly swelled out, free of its confinement. I tried to look at myself through your eyes, seeing the roundness of my stomach as "beautiful and womanly", to use your words. I must confess, I cannot see the beauty in it yet, but I am willing to believe that you do.
Returning from the bathroom, I found that Mother had placed a large helping of roast beef, potatoes and all of the other side dishes on a plate for me. I ate quickly, not wanting to still be eating when everyone else had finished. We chatted for a little while as, with great effort, I managed to eat everything in front of me.
I could feel my stomach testing the skill of the seamstress who sewed my dress. I got a little thrill as the conversation turned to your whereabouts. After explaining your absence, I helped myself to another serving of nearly everything, filling my belly to bursting as I talked about you. While clearing the table, it was all I could do to hold my belly in.
Nonetheless, Mother noticed the effects of my overindulgence, and told me that you would be home in just four months and that I shouldn't let myself go.
I told her it was just a phase. I was sure I'd settle down and get control in plenty of time for your return.
She kissed me and told me that, of course you'd be thrilled just to see me after so long an absence. Still, I should try to make it a special homecoming by looking just the way you'd want me to.
With that in mind, I treated myself to four slices of pie! I'm sure Mother had no idea just how her advice would inspire me! When I got home, I felt fuller than I've ever felt before. I could do nothing but fall asleep hugging my round stomach.
I'm writing this in the morning, with my stomach still feeling quite full. As soon as I finish this letter, I am going to eat a large breakfast, then plan out my meals for the rest of the week. I'm sure I won't be eating as much at each sitting as I did last night, but I shall endeavor to overindulge whenever I can.
I cannot wait to hear from you let alone see you again.
Love always,
Your Linda
My Dearest Michael,
I must say, your letters are quite "erotic". I am only worried that someone
might read them and think that we are some decadent "hipsters". Nonetheless, I couldn't bear to miss a word of your thoughts.
My "project" is going along quite well. I have gained seventeen pounds all told and I am bulging out of every piece of clothing I own. I have even outgrown the clothes I bought just two weeks ago. I cannot imagine how fat I will be by the time you come home in three months. Actually, two months, three weeks and four days.
You asked about my weight and measurements, so here they are. My bust (I think that is the first time I have ever written that word!) measures 37 inches at its fullest, while my chest measures 33. I am overflowing my brassiere. My waist (at least what there is left of it!) measures 32 inches and my hips are measuring just a hair under 40 inches. I can barely get my panties up over my thighs! When I got on the bathroom scale this morning, it told me I weighed 159 pounds.
My weight gain is not going unnoticed. When I went to the grocer yesterday, I met Diane from around the corner. We got to talking and she said that something about me looked different. She asked if I had changed my hair. I could see that she was glancing at my belly that was very obvious in my sheath skirt. I told her that my hair was the same, but that I'd gained a few pounds.
She said she's gotten quite large since she married Henry and that we should probably try reducing together. We agreed to meet on Sunday evening to prepare our "diet" for the week. She said that was a good night since Henry would be bowling, so I told her to come over our house and I would cook us some dinner. We'll be weighing and measuring ourselves then, so I'll refrain from doing it myself until then. Maybe there'll be some "news" to report!
Your loving wife,
Linda
Dear Michael,
Diane has gone home and I am writing to let you know of my evil nature! I feel a little guilty, but that doesn't take away from the fun!
I spent the whole day cooking like a fiend, so when Diane arrived at six, dinner was all prepared. She immediately caught the aroma of baking cake, so
I wasted no time in setting forth my lie that would be the premise for the entire evening.
I told her that I'd read an article just that week in one of the women's magazines which said that the most successful diets involve a great deal of preparation. One of the most important preparations, I told her the article claimed, was a pre-diet feast.
She said she hadn't heard of that before.
I told her that a scientific survey proved that our "willpower" works best when it has some recent event to react against. When one feasts oneself into discomfort immediately before beginning a reducing plan, our bodies remember how terrible they felt after the feast and so they have no problem with the deprivation of a reducing diet.
She said that sounded logical, and I almost believed myself! However, I knew that the article I'd read had actually shown the opposite!
I suggested we weigh and measure ourselves before the meal, so we both removed our clothes, then our girdles, until we were stripped down to our bras and panties. Although we were practically the same height, Diane appeared much heavier than me. When I took out the tape measure, it was confirmed.
Now, I feel a little funny giving you such private details about another woman, but I'm only doing it because you know how big she is and I want you to have something to compare my gain with. Diane measured 41 inches at the bust, 37 at the waist and 47 inches at her hips. She weighed 192 pounds. My measurements were only a little different from earlier in the week: 371/2-33-40. My weight belied such small increase in those measurements, because it had increased by nearly five pounds to 164.
Once we'd finished measuring, we spent the rest of the evening overindulging and having a great deal of fun. We started with franks-in-blankets as appetizers, moved on to a creamy mushroom soup, then a spinach and bacon salad, followed by a meatloaf ring with creamed spinach, buttered broccoli, and sautéed potato balls. There was three pounds of ground beef and pork in the meatloaf, but we left not even a crumb! We had a good-natured competition in all of our gorging and if anyone had peeked in our window, they would have been treated to the very unusual sight of two fat women feasting in their underwear!
While we ate, we planned our skimpy meals for the week, then, while looking over our plan of deprivation, the two of us devoured an entire chocolate fudge layer cake, giggling as we fought to scoop up the last scrap of icing with our fingertips! Neither one of us could move after that, so we just sat back groaning about how full we were and how fat we were and how we'd have no trouble if we never ate again.
When we were finally able to move, I suggested we weigh and measure again. I said it would be very encouraging if we started from this ridiculously inflated point and therefore, could see an immediate loss.
Diane agreed and it was back to the measuring tape, where the score was this way. Diane: 41-39-47, 198 pounds. Linda: 371/2-36-401/2, 170 pounds! (I'm not sure why my hips increased, but I'm sure we measured correctly.
After she'd struggled back into her clothes, we agreed to meet the next Sunday night at her place for another weighing and measuring session, but WITHOUT the feast!
Now, I'm going to finish this letter and go to sleep, dreaming of you.
I Love You Always,
Your (fat) wife, Linda
Dear Michael,
Time is rushing by. I cannot believe that it is less than two months until you come home! I know I had great reservations about gaining weight for you. Now I am having so much fun both getting fat and being fat, that I feel a great pressure to redouble my efforts in the time remaining. I want you to be bowled over when I meet you at the airport. I want to feel your passion consume me the way I am consuming every bit of food in my path!
The extra money you sent in your last letter went to good use. I bought three new pair of panties in the largest size they had. Next time I need a bigger size, I will have to go to the Matron's department! I also purchased two new bras at the Sears store, since they are the only ones that carry a 40 bra with a D-cup. With the leftover money, I bought two pounds of Whitman's chocolates and finished them all in two nights!
Diane has canceled our Sunday night meeting again. She's been doing this now for the last three weeks. In fact, since the first feast at our house and the next meeting at her house where we each had gained five pounds instead of losing, we have not gotten together. She says that this is a bad time for her since Henry and his brothers are feuding over their father's will, and she just can't concentrate on a diet. I told her she should let me know whenever she's ready to start over again and we'll have another "reducing feast." She agreed that it was a very enjoyable way to start a diet.
Well, that's all for now. I dream of you every night, imagining your strong hands all over my soft body. I know you will be home soon, but I wish you were here now.
Love always,
Your (hungry) wife
P.S. I almost forgot my measurements: 381/2-37-421/2, 179 pounds!
