ElegantBachelor
New Member
~BBW, Stuffing, ~~WG, ~Sex - A story of one woman's weight gain journey in the form of a letter
(I've been lurking here for a while, and I always enjoy a good weight gain story, so figured I would try my hand at one in my own weird writing style. It's mostly stuffing in this one (a little sexually explicit at the end), but I plan on adding more parts. First wg story I've ever written - let me know what you think of it so far.)
Dear Friend,
While I lament the long duration that has passed since our last meeting in person, I still consider us good friends with a long and storied history. I hope that a heartfelt, hand-written note addressed directly to you can perhaps make up for our delayed reunion. Although over our many years of friendship we have shared many a great secret with each other, there is but one secret desire I have harbored since adolescence of which I have intentionally neglected to inform you. This secret of mine is of a highly taboo nature, and the results of its partaking are heavily looked down upon by society. However, I feel it is now necessary to divulge the details of my long-kept secret as I have indulged my desires and this has caused a great change in my appearance of late.
I must relay some background that has led to my recent undertaking. Throughout college I endeavored to be liked, to fit in. The obvious course was to join a sorority. This meant above all else uniform thought. I repressed my desires further, even acted in direct opposition to them. I was a model sister: thin, beautiful, haughty, and catty. If the other sisters thought it, I consented and agreed. After my graduation, I got a job in marketing and moved out near the city. On the weekends, I continued to pursue my college life-style: dressing up, going out, drinking, getting hit on, going home with a guy, and getting laid. This was the whole of my existence for the greater part of a year.
I began to find this mode of living repetitive, and furthermore, after looking at myself in the mirror one night, I noticed my heavily made up face and tastefully dyed hair, my designer clothes and Planet Fitness-molded physique. I made a realization: I had become entirely and veritably a basic bitch, to use a colloquial term. Was this really what I wanted to be? a banal, cookie-cutter version of the American woman? You will surely recall, throughout my secondary schooling, I had an originality streak. I was so bold as to dye my hair ostentatious colors, and to engage in such creative pursuits as drawing and painting. Even my favorite class was the oft-ridiculed marching band.
I was dissatisfied with the person I had become since and vowed to be as true to myself as I had been in my younger years. As I boxed up my Uggs and Northface jacket to be donated, I remembered that one secret that I had not the confidence to explore. Even in my individualistic phase, I feared the judgment of others, but now, I felt a need to accept all aspects of my true self.
At this point, I find it necessary to clarify exactly what desires I am referring to, Friend. My whole life I have been thin and surrounded by others of a similar build – my immediate family are all of thin frames and low body fat. My mother was always diet conscious and held, like many others, thinness as a virtue. While I lived my life blending in to her ideals and those of society, secretly I harbored desires for quite the opposite. I wanted to grow – to be surrounded by foods of all sorts and varieties, to consume well past I had had my fill, and to become that which my mother detested: fat. This, my Friend, is my great secret.
I was a little hesitant to embark on a journey of such exploration, but I was fed up with being what I thought everyone expected me to be, and this latter feeling outweighed my reluctance. It was a Friday night, and this would typically be the time I called up my girlfriends and made plans to go to a fancy bar or expensive nightclub. Instead, I retrieved my phone with shaking hand and dialed the nearby pizza parlor. I ordered far more than I knew myself capable of eating: two large pies, three sandwiches, and an entire 2-litre bottle of soda, but I thought the excess would encourage me to consume more than I would otherwise.
As I waited for the arrival of my massive meal, I undressed and weighed myself so that if I continued like this, I might gauge my starting point. Although I had not weighed myself in quite some time, the number confirmed what I already knew: that I was too thin for my liking – skinny even. The thought of remedying this situation caused me to tremble with pleasure. I stepped over to the mirror and looked at my lithe body. I ran my hands down my various body parts as I imagined the effects of regular over-eating: larger breasts, a rounder posterior, thicker thighs and arms, and a protruding belly.
The doorbell rang sooner than anticipated. Quickly, I threw my clothes back on and walked briskly to my door. Jittery and nervous, I received, paid, and tipped the deliverer and closed the door behind me. I placed the food down on the counter and slowly opened the topmost pizza box. Trembling, I grabbed the first slice and held it before me. Many thoughts raced through my mind as I considered the implications of what I was about to commit. How might others perceive me as my size increased? Will I be treated differently? Will I outgrow all my clothes? I took a deep breath to calm down and reminded myself that this was something I had always wanted. Besides, there was always the option of turning back. So, in spite of my fears, I commenced with a large bite of that first slice, standing at my counter. I followed this with more bites of comparable size in succession until the slice was no more. I attempted to continue with the same rapidity for as long as I could endure, but soon the feeling of fullness in my abdomen caused me to lessen my pace. I had eaten four of the slices of the pie before slowing down to take note of the quantity. Not being accustomed to eating such amounts I felt no small discomfort, but this was accompanied by vigorous arousal. Imagine, if you will, Friend, that sense of warmth, comfort, and security associated with a full stomach. Now combine said feeling with that of sexual pleasure. It is of a sensation most singular! Most do not have this strange association, but perhaps you might now have some notion of my motivations on this night.
I moved my meal from the counter to my living room table and in spite of my fullness, carried on. I opened the bottle of soda and washed down that which I had already consumed. I migrated my hand down to my abdomen and felt its subtle roundness. I moaned. I grabbed my fifth slice and tried to match my previous pace. My goal was to finish everything, as daunting as it was. To my surprise, I was able to devour another four slices. I must admit, I felt somewhat accomplished; I had never finished an entire large pizza myself before. Furthermore, although intimidating, I found it possible to continue eating. With a slight redirection of course, I picked up a sandwich, one of the chicken parmigiana variety. I dug in to the bready exterior with my teeth and tore away mouthful after mouthful. Any hesitation and my brain would have the chance to register the current state of my stomach. Therefore, I advanced without pause until the entirety of the sandwich was demolished. As this point, my pain began to outweigh my desire to carry on, but, although I felt I could no longer bring myself to ingest solid foods, I found myself quite thirsty, and decided to punctuate my meal with a long draught of my beverage. I raised the bottle to my lips and upended it. With massive gulps, I drank as much of the liquid as I could. I rested my hand upon my belly and could feel the no longer subtle protrusion expand with each swallow. Having much more than my fill, I retired from the task. Over-satisfied and over-nourished, I admitted defeat to the meal still before me.
I cleaned up a bit and stored the remaining food to be consumed for another time. Tomorrow, perhaps?, I thought devilishly. I changed into my eveningwear: pink velour pants and a white camisole. Every one of my movements was denoted by a groan. I returned to the couch and turned on my television. I reclined on the sofa and rubbed my sore belly with both hands. Never in my life had I eaten so much, my Friend. Never before had I been so full, or so painfully content. I lifted the bottom of my shirt over my current bulge and spread my hands and fingers over it. I imagined what it might be like to live with my belly that size permanently, or, perhaps, twice or three times the size. The thought, combined with the pressure in my stomach increased blood-flow to my nether regions, thereby dilating the various parts. Suffice it to say, I was horny and ocean-wet. I was so incredibly aroused; I could not help but commence in intense masturbation right there on my couch. I slipped my hand below my pants, into my undergarments, and inserted my fingers into my sopping vagina.
As I pleasured myself I thought of all I consumed that night, how full I felt, and how my partaking in that night’s activities might result in changes to my body composition and shape. I thought of participating in similar ventures tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, and everyday thereafter. I thought of my body changing, growing softer, and curvier, and rounder, and larger as I ate to my limits at every opportunity. These thoughts heightened my arousal, each one bringing me closer to climax. It was not long before I reached orgasm, one of my fondest on record. I proceeded to bring myself to lesser orgasm a few times before falling into a deep slumber. As I drifted to sleep, the words, I can’t wait to do this again, passed gently over my lips.
Dear Friend,
by ElegantBachelor
by ElegantBachelor
(I've been lurking here for a while, and I always enjoy a good weight gain story, so figured I would try my hand at one in my own weird writing style. It's mostly stuffing in this one (a little sexually explicit at the end), but I plan on adding more parts. First wg story I've ever written - let me know what you think of it so far.)
Dear Friend,
While I lament the long duration that has passed since our last meeting in person, I still consider us good friends with a long and storied history. I hope that a heartfelt, hand-written note addressed directly to you can perhaps make up for our delayed reunion. Although over our many years of friendship we have shared many a great secret with each other, there is but one secret desire I have harbored since adolescence of which I have intentionally neglected to inform you. This secret of mine is of a highly taboo nature, and the results of its partaking are heavily looked down upon by society. However, I feel it is now necessary to divulge the details of my long-kept secret as I have indulged my desires and this has caused a great change in my appearance of late.
I must relay some background that has led to my recent undertaking. Throughout college I endeavored to be liked, to fit in. The obvious course was to join a sorority. This meant above all else uniform thought. I repressed my desires further, even acted in direct opposition to them. I was a model sister: thin, beautiful, haughty, and catty. If the other sisters thought it, I consented and agreed. After my graduation, I got a job in marketing and moved out near the city. On the weekends, I continued to pursue my college life-style: dressing up, going out, drinking, getting hit on, going home with a guy, and getting laid. This was the whole of my existence for the greater part of a year.
I began to find this mode of living repetitive, and furthermore, after looking at myself in the mirror one night, I noticed my heavily made up face and tastefully dyed hair, my designer clothes and Planet Fitness-molded physique. I made a realization: I had become entirely and veritably a basic bitch, to use a colloquial term. Was this really what I wanted to be? a banal, cookie-cutter version of the American woman? You will surely recall, throughout my secondary schooling, I had an originality streak. I was so bold as to dye my hair ostentatious colors, and to engage in such creative pursuits as drawing and painting. Even my favorite class was the oft-ridiculed marching band.
I was dissatisfied with the person I had become since and vowed to be as true to myself as I had been in my younger years. As I boxed up my Uggs and Northface jacket to be donated, I remembered that one secret that I had not the confidence to explore. Even in my individualistic phase, I feared the judgment of others, but now, I felt a need to accept all aspects of my true self.
At this point, I find it necessary to clarify exactly what desires I am referring to, Friend. My whole life I have been thin and surrounded by others of a similar build – my immediate family are all of thin frames and low body fat. My mother was always diet conscious and held, like many others, thinness as a virtue. While I lived my life blending in to her ideals and those of society, secretly I harbored desires for quite the opposite. I wanted to grow – to be surrounded by foods of all sorts and varieties, to consume well past I had had my fill, and to become that which my mother detested: fat. This, my Friend, is my great secret.
I was a little hesitant to embark on a journey of such exploration, but I was fed up with being what I thought everyone expected me to be, and this latter feeling outweighed my reluctance. It was a Friday night, and this would typically be the time I called up my girlfriends and made plans to go to a fancy bar or expensive nightclub. Instead, I retrieved my phone with shaking hand and dialed the nearby pizza parlor. I ordered far more than I knew myself capable of eating: two large pies, three sandwiches, and an entire 2-litre bottle of soda, but I thought the excess would encourage me to consume more than I would otherwise.
As I waited for the arrival of my massive meal, I undressed and weighed myself so that if I continued like this, I might gauge my starting point. Although I had not weighed myself in quite some time, the number confirmed what I already knew: that I was too thin for my liking – skinny even. The thought of remedying this situation caused me to tremble with pleasure. I stepped over to the mirror and looked at my lithe body. I ran my hands down my various body parts as I imagined the effects of regular over-eating: larger breasts, a rounder posterior, thicker thighs and arms, and a protruding belly.
The doorbell rang sooner than anticipated. Quickly, I threw my clothes back on and walked briskly to my door. Jittery and nervous, I received, paid, and tipped the deliverer and closed the door behind me. I placed the food down on the counter and slowly opened the topmost pizza box. Trembling, I grabbed the first slice and held it before me. Many thoughts raced through my mind as I considered the implications of what I was about to commit. How might others perceive me as my size increased? Will I be treated differently? Will I outgrow all my clothes? I took a deep breath to calm down and reminded myself that this was something I had always wanted. Besides, there was always the option of turning back. So, in spite of my fears, I commenced with a large bite of that first slice, standing at my counter. I followed this with more bites of comparable size in succession until the slice was no more. I attempted to continue with the same rapidity for as long as I could endure, but soon the feeling of fullness in my abdomen caused me to lessen my pace. I had eaten four of the slices of the pie before slowing down to take note of the quantity. Not being accustomed to eating such amounts I felt no small discomfort, but this was accompanied by vigorous arousal. Imagine, if you will, Friend, that sense of warmth, comfort, and security associated with a full stomach. Now combine said feeling with that of sexual pleasure. It is of a sensation most singular! Most do not have this strange association, but perhaps you might now have some notion of my motivations on this night.
I moved my meal from the counter to my living room table and in spite of my fullness, carried on. I opened the bottle of soda and washed down that which I had already consumed. I migrated my hand down to my abdomen and felt its subtle roundness. I moaned. I grabbed my fifth slice and tried to match my previous pace. My goal was to finish everything, as daunting as it was. To my surprise, I was able to devour another four slices. I must admit, I felt somewhat accomplished; I had never finished an entire large pizza myself before. Furthermore, although intimidating, I found it possible to continue eating. With a slight redirection of course, I picked up a sandwich, one of the chicken parmigiana variety. I dug in to the bready exterior with my teeth and tore away mouthful after mouthful. Any hesitation and my brain would have the chance to register the current state of my stomach. Therefore, I advanced without pause until the entirety of the sandwich was demolished. As this point, my pain began to outweigh my desire to carry on, but, although I felt I could no longer bring myself to ingest solid foods, I found myself quite thirsty, and decided to punctuate my meal with a long draught of my beverage. I raised the bottle to my lips and upended it. With massive gulps, I drank as much of the liquid as I could. I rested my hand upon my belly and could feel the no longer subtle protrusion expand with each swallow. Having much more than my fill, I retired from the task. Over-satisfied and over-nourished, I admitted defeat to the meal still before me.
I cleaned up a bit and stored the remaining food to be consumed for another time. Tomorrow, perhaps?, I thought devilishly. I changed into my eveningwear: pink velour pants and a white camisole. Every one of my movements was denoted by a groan. I returned to the couch and turned on my television. I reclined on the sofa and rubbed my sore belly with both hands. Never in my life had I eaten so much, my Friend. Never before had I been so full, or so painfully content. I lifted the bottom of my shirt over my current bulge and spread my hands and fingers over it. I imagined what it might be like to live with my belly that size permanently, or, perhaps, twice or three times the size. The thought, combined with the pressure in my stomach increased blood-flow to my nether regions, thereby dilating the various parts. Suffice it to say, I was horny and ocean-wet. I was so incredibly aroused; I could not help but commence in intense masturbation right there on my couch. I slipped my hand below my pants, into my undergarments, and inserted my fingers into my sopping vagina.
As I pleasured myself I thought of all I consumed that night, how full I felt, and how my partaking in that night’s activities might result in changes to my body composition and shape. I thought of participating in similar ventures tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, and everyday thereafter. I thought of my body changing, growing softer, and curvier, and rounder, and larger as I ate to my limits at every opportunity. These thoughts heightened my arousal, each one bringing me closer to climax. It was not long before I reached orgasm, one of my fondest on record. I proceeded to bring myself to lesser orgasm a few times before falling into a deep slumber. As I drifted to sleep, the words, I can’t wait to do this again, passed gently over my lips.
