Gentleman
Well-Known Member
~BHM, Romance, Eating Fantasy, Feederism, ~XWG - A FFA just has to prepare when going out of town and leaving her BHM home alone
[ Author's Note: I recently stumbled onto this Library, and was immediately struck by the quality, diversity, and sheer volume of the stories I found here. Like countless others (apparently), they have inspired me to pen a few of my own. My first is an encouraging tale in two bite-sized parts. ]
Part 1: A Growing Boy
Rob had always been a big guy. Back in high school, he had played on the offensive line for his football team in the state championship. At six feet tall and 325 pounds, he wasn’t quick, or even that athletic, but he made up for it in bulk. He was part of their success simply because he was hard to move around. On Friday nights, he celebrated wins with the team at the pizza parlor, usually getting his own pie. It was good to be big.
Football wasn’t going to be a career, however, and at college he studied hard. He achieved the freshman fifteen before Thanksgiving, and never looked back. Four years later, Rob graduated with honors and another hundred pounds. He didn’t mind the extra weight; he thought he carried his 440 pounds rather well.
He landed a good job as a broker at an investment firm. Rob was a natural at it and prospered. But after a few years on his own, he was lonely. He’d had a few dates, of course, but nothing serious. He half-heartedly began to wonder if maybe he should lose a few to make himself more attractive. That was, until he met Tracy.
Rob was sitting in the food court working on his second foot-long meatball sub when she approached. Even from a distance she caught his eye, in part because she was staring right at him.
“Great,” he thought, “the tiny cheerleader looking with disgust at the fat boy stuffing himself.” As she got closer though, she started smiling, and then beaming.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
“No, but I want to know you,” she purred. She patted his ample spare tire, sending ripples across his belly. Rob melted.
Over the next few weeks they ate out often, mostly at buffets. She kept complimenting him on his appetite.
“Another slice of cheesecake, Honey?” she would ask with a devilish grin. Then she would come back to the table, placing a quarter of the entire cake on his plate. It was obvious what she was doing, but Rob was falling in love and powerless to deny her. His size 52 jeans were becoming painfully tight; they were living together within a month.
Tracy couldn’t keep her hands off him. She was constantly kneading his growing rolls. Her touch was exhilarating and Rob was completely under her spell. It seems that she liked big guys. Ha! What an understatement. What she wanted was a massively obese man. A jiggling mountain of flesh.
When Rob moved in, she put her scheme into high gear. She started fixing huge meals, enough for an entire family: wonderfully rich stroganoffs, fatty meats sautéed in butter, mounds of potatoes dripping in gravy, pans of pastas smothered with cheese sauces.
Rob was never one to shy away from heaping helpings, so he dove right in. He couldn’t help it; she had worked so hard preparing these feasts, and everything was delicious. She kept refilling his plate and he wasn’t going to let her down. Besides, she really appreciated each new pound! Tracy liked to stand behind him, reaching around to heft his growing pot like it was her own. It was hers; she helped build it.
By the end of the year, Rob was well over five hundred and looked it. He had always been big, but now he was getting roly-poly, his chubby face gaining an extra chin. His arms and legs were thick and flabby; all trace of muscle-tone from his football years had been erased, buried under layer upon layer of fat. His enormous paunch hung well over his belt (she liked it that way) riding out on his thighs. The stretch-marks bore testament to his rapid expansion.
Rob eventually had to give up on regular chairs, having broken a few, and now pretty much filled up a love seat. It was like his throne. Tracy would lean over, slipping her hands under his shirt to massage his soft tummy and his ever-increasing bulges. She played with the rolls on the back of his neck as she planted kisses on his triple chins. She brought him and endless variety of delicacies to fill his seemingly bottomless pit. He felt like a king!
He desired for this courtship to never end, so he asked Tracy to marry him. Of course she said yes, how could she resist a quarter-ton man? Rob was relieved because at the rate he was gaining, he wanted to be sure that she would always be there for him. He needn’t have worried. She was completely enraptured by him, and wouldn’t have left him for the world. They were perfectly compatible – Rob a growing glutton and Tracy a dedicated feeder. Rob knew he was completely out of control, but he was in love.
Tracy often surveyed the results of the diet she had put him on, taking photos of his incessant growth. She weighed and measured him like a prize fatted pig, charting his progress. Rob had to admit that he tried hard to impress her with his capacity. He lived for the twinkle in her eye when he shot up a couple more pounds. They celebrated each time he went up a pant size. Outgrowing clothes kept his darling happy!
Rob didn’t even realize he waddled until some “nice” young men pointed it out. As a matter of fact, a lot of people began commenting on his size, or simply pointed and laughed. For some reason, the negative attention excited him. It doubled his resolve to get even fatter! He felt empowered.
Another year, another hundred pounds. Marriage really agreed with him; everyone said so. By now, Rob was pretty much on automatic, and didn’t need much encouragement from his sweetie. His multi-hour feasts stretched out most of the day, and became a nearly non-stop eating orgy. A groaning smörgåsbord of calorie-laden entrees and decadent desserts always awaited him. Ah, the desserts!
Tracy was a master pastry chef, and cakes were her specialty. Every day, she baked a large multi-layer creation to tempt him. He suspected that she added weight-gain powder to some of her recipes, but he didn’t care. It seemed that he could never get enough of her fattening spreads.
Rob seldom left the house and worked on-line, not because he was ashamed of his looks (the way she played with his man-boobs made him feel hot and desirable) but because it was getting harder to move. He would stop to rest, panting, even after a short walk. He no longer could drive; his belly wouldn’t fit behind the wheel. So he relaxed and ate. He was a willing feedee, completely addicted to her banquet of delights and she made sure that there was always more within reach.
Although Tracy rarely left him alone for very long (she had to make sure he didn’t go hungry!), a sister’s wedding necessitated a trip across country. As much as Rob wanted to go, there is no way a 600 lb. man could begin to fit on a plane, even in two seats. Driving would take too long. She would simply have to go by herself.
In preparation, she stocked up the pantry from the Food Club with enough provisions to last a few days. She figured two loaded shopping carts worth should hold him. He told her not to worry, “I’m a big boy!”
She gave her big guy a deep kiss and a quick pat on the belly that started waves undulating across it. “Don’t waste away while I’m gone!” she laughed, and headed for the airport.
As soon as she was out of sight, Rob surveyed his haul. Good thing they had an extra refrigerator and freezer in the garage because she had them stocked to the gills. Tons of family-sized heat-and-serve meals and frozen desserts awaited consumption. “She really loves me!” he thought.
She had only been gone a few minutes, but Rob was already famished. Besides, he wanted to put a big dent in this larder to show her that he could care for himself! Thus began a three day non-stop feeding frenzy.
Part 2: The Binge
Rob was never much in the kitchen, except for the eating part. But Tracy had made it easy for him. He grabbed an armload of frozen lasagnas and set them out on the counter like an assembly line. Other ready-made dinners followed, with plenty of desserts sprinkled in for good measure. Making good use of the double ovens, he set about a rotation of cooking that pretty much would have something ready every fifteen minutes or so. Tracy would be impressed by his cleverness!
He wheeled in a sturdy stool, and began to chow down. Not even taking time to use a dish, he ate right out of the pan with a large tablespoon. The first entrée was a little too hot, so he reduced the cooking time to just warm them up.
“After all, they’re already cooked,” he reasoned. Besides, now the rotation would be quicker. As soon as he completed the next one, a timer bell went off indicating another meal was ready.
Volumes of heavy meat and cheese-laden pasta slid down his throat. When he got thirsty, he washed it all down with the weight-gain shakes that she had thoughtfully provided. Tracy was long past the point of hiding this little secret from him.
By midnight, the floor was littered with all sorts of food packages, and he was getting tired. Quite a workout. Not a bad first day, he thought. He waddled of to bed, setting the alarm for six. He knew he had a big day tomorrow! He slept deeply.
The alarm went off with an annoying buzz. Rob was definitely not used alarm clocks and fumbled with it for a few minutes.
When Tracy was home, she would let him sleep late. No need for alarms. By the time he rolled out of bed around ten, she had already prepared his favorite breakfast: two dozen eggs, several pounds of bacon, a couple platters of hash browns, a loaf of toast slathered with butter, and a few pitchers of half-n-half. While he plowed through his morning repast, she would fire up the griddle and present him with multiple stacks of waffles or pancakes dripping in butter and syrup. If he was still hungry, which was most of the time, she would hit him with the pastries: coffee cakes, cheese Danishes and, of course, as many doughnuts as he could hold. Just enough to tide him over until lunch.
But not today! Today he was on his own and intended to make the most of it. Back in the kitchen, he quickly cleared the counters to set up the day’s feast. More entrees and desserts were brought in and arranged to follow the successful assembly line routine of yesterday.
Rob again sat on his reinforced stool and settled in for some serious eating. Ding! Salisbury steaks. Ding! Fried chicken. Ding! Another lasagna. On and on through the day it went. His only breaks were to chug the weight gain shakes, or occasionally slip in one of the gooey desserts. He was in heaven but it was getting late. With a few hours left until bedtime, he decided to concentrate on the desserts.
The cream pies were cool and went down easy. Ten of them ought to do it. In the meantime, he thawed a dozen of the packaged layer cakes. Although not up to Tracy’s standards (God, that girl could bake!), he found them to be acceptable. The lightness of the cake felt good after a day of heavy eating. So good, that after just six of them, he decided to move up to the cheesecakes. These were the heavy artillery. Deluxe, full-size, restaurant-quality cheesecakes; over 10,000 calories each. By the time he finished the fourth one, he had to admit he was actually full. It had been a long time since he had been this stuffed, and Rob couldn’t help but smile as he lumbered off to bed.
Day three started with that damn alarm clock again. How do people do it? Tracy had let Rob become so lazy over the last year that he now found it hard to get up. But he wanted more than anything to impress her with his prodigious appetite, so he made his way into the kitchen once more.
As much as he loved to eat, this non-stop binge was becoming almost like work. “It’s a dirty job but someone has to do it!”
The thought inspired him.
Rob collected the last of the meals and set them out with the remaining desserts as before. One by one he consumed them greedily. He lost all track of time. He was in a zone. His arms were moving, automatically feeding his face. Food scraps flew every which way. On through the day he continued to devour greedily and guzzle shakes. Was there no limit?
By nightfall his belly was distended from the over indulgence. The skin of this abdomen was stretched drum-tight, shiny in the light. He had polished off everything that she had bought for him, and he could hardly move. She would be so pleased!
The pain in his stomach was intense. He was sweating. Soon that feeling was replaced by a great sense of accomplishment. He sat back, his globular gut protruding outward, satisfied that he had done his best.
Looking around the kitchen, he now noticed the “regular” food. The everyday things that seem almost invisible. Cereals, canned goods, the ever-present party-sized bags of candy bars. Now it called to him. He struggled upright. He still had work to do!
Rob gathered what was left in the pantry and back of the cupboards. He cleaned out the fridge. Anything that was edible was brought forth. It was quite an array. He only had a few hours until Tracy came home, so he’d better get cracking!
When Tracy walked in the door later that night, she was dumbfounded. Her dumpling was sitting in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by an amazing variety of empty pans and food wrappers. Rob’s clothes were stained with multiple sauces and gravy. His shirt looked shrunken, exposing his vast bulk. Crumbs were everywhere. Chocolate was smeared on his beaming face, and he was still holding a large spoon.
“Welcome home! I’d get up to kiss you but I can’t,” he said, proudly.
She glanced around and saw that there was nothing left on the shelves. Tears welled up in her eyes.
“What’s the matter, darling?” Rob asked.
“I so sorry,” she sobbed, “I thought I had left you enough food, but it looks like I’ve half starved you.”
Tracy gazed lovingly at the immense mountain of fat that she called her husband, her face begging for forgiveness.
“I wouldn’t exactly say that,” soothed Rob. “But we do need to go shopping tomorrow. For now, just help me up so we can get to bed.”
She drew close and kissed him passionately.
[ Author's Note: I recently stumbled onto this Library, and was immediately struck by the quality, diversity, and sheer volume of the stories I found here. Like countless others (apparently), they have inspired me to pen a few of my own. My first is an encouraging tale in two bite-sized parts. ]
Her Big Guy
by Gentleman
by Gentleman
Part 1: A Growing Boy
Rob had always been a big guy. Back in high school, he had played on the offensive line for his football team in the state championship. At six feet tall and 325 pounds, he wasn’t quick, or even that athletic, but he made up for it in bulk. He was part of their success simply because he was hard to move around. On Friday nights, he celebrated wins with the team at the pizza parlor, usually getting his own pie. It was good to be big.
Football wasn’t going to be a career, however, and at college he studied hard. He achieved the freshman fifteen before Thanksgiving, and never looked back. Four years later, Rob graduated with honors and another hundred pounds. He didn’t mind the extra weight; he thought he carried his 440 pounds rather well.
He landed a good job as a broker at an investment firm. Rob was a natural at it and prospered. But after a few years on his own, he was lonely. He’d had a few dates, of course, but nothing serious. He half-heartedly began to wonder if maybe he should lose a few to make himself more attractive. That was, until he met Tracy.
Rob was sitting in the food court working on his second foot-long meatball sub when she approached. Even from a distance she caught his eye, in part because she was staring right at him.
“Great,” he thought, “the tiny cheerleader looking with disgust at the fat boy stuffing himself.” As she got closer though, she started smiling, and then beaming.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
“No, but I want to know you,” she purred. She patted his ample spare tire, sending ripples across his belly. Rob melted.
Over the next few weeks they ate out often, mostly at buffets. She kept complimenting him on his appetite.
“Another slice of cheesecake, Honey?” she would ask with a devilish grin. Then she would come back to the table, placing a quarter of the entire cake on his plate. It was obvious what she was doing, but Rob was falling in love and powerless to deny her. His size 52 jeans were becoming painfully tight; they were living together within a month.
Tracy couldn’t keep her hands off him. She was constantly kneading his growing rolls. Her touch was exhilarating and Rob was completely under her spell. It seems that she liked big guys. Ha! What an understatement. What she wanted was a massively obese man. A jiggling mountain of flesh.
When Rob moved in, she put her scheme into high gear. She started fixing huge meals, enough for an entire family: wonderfully rich stroganoffs, fatty meats sautéed in butter, mounds of potatoes dripping in gravy, pans of pastas smothered with cheese sauces.
Rob was never one to shy away from heaping helpings, so he dove right in. He couldn’t help it; she had worked so hard preparing these feasts, and everything was delicious. She kept refilling his plate and he wasn’t going to let her down. Besides, she really appreciated each new pound! Tracy liked to stand behind him, reaching around to heft his growing pot like it was her own. It was hers; she helped build it.
By the end of the year, Rob was well over five hundred and looked it. He had always been big, but now he was getting roly-poly, his chubby face gaining an extra chin. His arms and legs were thick and flabby; all trace of muscle-tone from his football years had been erased, buried under layer upon layer of fat. His enormous paunch hung well over his belt (she liked it that way) riding out on his thighs. The stretch-marks bore testament to his rapid expansion.
Rob eventually had to give up on regular chairs, having broken a few, and now pretty much filled up a love seat. It was like his throne. Tracy would lean over, slipping her hands under his shirt to massage his soft tummy and his ever-increasing bulges. She played with the rolls on the back of his neck as she planted kisses on his triple chins. She brought him and endless variety of delicacies to fill his seemingly bottomless pit. He felt like a king!
He desired for this courtship to never end, so he asked Tracy to marry him. Of course she said yes, how could she resist a quarter-ton man? Rob was relieved because at the rate he was gaining, he wanted to be sure that she would always be there for him. He needn’t have worried. She was completely enraptured by him, and wouldn’t have left him for the world. They were perfectly compatible – Rob a growing glutton and Tracy a dedicated feeder. Rob knew he was completely out of control, but he was in love.
Tracy often surveyed the results of the diet she had put him on, taking photos of his incessant growth. She weighed and measured him like a prize fatted pig, charting his progress. Rob had to admit that he tried hard to impress her with his capacity. He lived for the twinkle in her eye when he shot up a couple more pounds. They celebrated each time he went up a pant size. Outgrowing clothes kept his darling happy!
Rob didn’t even realize he waddled until some “nice” young men pointed it out. As a matter of fact, a lot of people began commenting on his size, or simply pointed and laughed. For some reason, the negative attention excited him. It doubled his resolve to get even fatter! He felt empowered.
Another year, another hundred pounds. Marriage really agreed with him; everyone said so. By now, Rob was pretty much on automatic, and didn’t need much encouragement from his sweetie. His multi-hour feasts stretched out most of the day, and became a nearly non-stop eating orgy. A groaning smörgåsbord of calorie-laden entrees and decadent desserts always awaited him. Ah, the desserts!
Tracy was a master pastry chef, and cakes were her specialty. Every day, she baked a large multi-layer creation to tempt him. He suspected that she added weight-gain powder to some of her recipes, but he didn’t care. It seemed that he could never get enough of her fattening spreads.
Rob seldom left the house and worked on-line, not because he was ashamed of his looks (the way she played with his man-boobs made him feel hot and desirable) but because it was getting harder to move. He would stop to rest, panting, even after a short walk. He no longer could drive; his belly wouldn’t fit behind the wheel. So he relaxed and ate. He was a willing feedee, completely addicted to her banquet of delights and she made sure that there was always more within reach.
Although Tracy rarely left him alone for very long (she had to make sure he didn’t go hungry!), a sister’s wedding necessitated a trip across country. As much as Rob wanted to go, there is no way a 600 lb. man could begin to fit on a plane, even in two seats. Driving would take too long. She would simply have to go by herself.
In preparation, she stocked up the pantry from the Food Club with enough provisions to last a few days. She figured two loaded shopping carts worth should hold him. He told her not to worry, “I’m a big boy!”
She gave her big guy a deep kiss and a quick pat on the belly that started waves undulating across it. “Don’t waste away while I’m gone!” she laughed, and headed for the airport.
As soon as she was out of sight, Rob surveyed his haul. Good thing they had an extra refrigerator and freezer in the garage because she had them stocked to the gills. Tons of family-sized heat-and-serve meals and frozen desserts awaited consumption. “She really loves me!” he thought.
She had only been gone a few minutes, but Rob was already famished. Besides, he wanted to put a big dent in this larder to show her that he could care for himself! Thus began a three day non-stop feeding frenzy.
Part 2: The Binge
Rob was never much in the kitchen, except for the eating part. But Tracy had made it easy for him. He grabbed an armload of frozen lasagnas and set them out on the counter like an assembly line. Other ready-made dinners followed, with plenty of desserts sprinkled in for good measure. Making good use of the double ovens, he set about a rotation of cooking that pretty much would have something ready every fifteen minutes or so. Tracy would be impressed by his cleverness!
He wheeled in a sturdy stool, and began to chow down. Not even taking time to use a dish, he ate right out of the pan with a large tablespoon. The first entrée was a little too hot, so he reduced the cooking time to just warm them up.
“After all, they’re already cooked,” he reasoned. Besides, now the rotation would be quicker. As soon as he completed the next one, a timer bell went off indicating another meal was ready.
Volumes of heavy meat and cheese-laden pasta slid down his throat. When he got thirsty, he washed it all down with the weight-gain shakes that she had thoughtfully provided. Tracy was long past the point of hiding this little secret from him.
By midnight, the floor was littered with all sorts of food packages, and he was getting tired. Quite a workout. Not a bad first day, he thought. He waddled of to bed, setting the alarm for six. He knew he had a big day tomorrow! He slept deeply.
The alarm went off with an annoying buzz. Rob was definitely not used alarm clocks and fumbled with it for a few minutes.
When Tracy was home, she would let him sleep late. No need for alarms. By the time he rolled out of bed around ten, she had already prepared his favorite breakfast: two dozen eggs, several pounds of bacon, a couple platters of hash browns, a loaf of toast slathered with butter, and a few pitchers of half-n-half. While he plowed through his morning repast, she would fire up the griddle and present him with multiple stacks of waffles or pancakes dripping in butter and syrup. If he was still hungry, which was most of the time, she would hit him with the pastries: coffee cakes, cheese Danishes and, of course, as many doughnuts as he could hold. Just enough to tide him over until lunch.
But not today! Today he was on his own and intended to make the most of it. Back in the kitchen, he quickly cleared the counters to set up the day’s feast. More entrees and desserts were brought in and arranged to follow the successful assembly line routine of yesterday.
Rob again sat on his reinforced stool and settled in for some serious eating. Ding! Salisbury steaks. Ding! Fried chicken. Ding! Another lasagna. On and on through the day it went. His only breaks were to chug the weight gain shakes, or occasionally slip in one of the gooey desserts. He was in heaven but it was getting late. With a few hours left until bedtime, he decided to concentrate on the desserts.
The cream pies were cool and went down easy. Ten of them ought to do it. In the meantime, he thawed a dozen of the packaged layer cakes. Although not up to Tracy’s standards (God, that girl could bake!), he found them to be acceptable. The lightness of the cake felt good after a day of heavy eating. So good, that after just six of them, he decided to move up to the cheesecakes. These were the heavy artillery. Deluxe, full-size, restaurant-quality cheesecakes; over 10,000 calories each. By the time he finished the fourth one, he had to admit he was actually full. It had been a long time since he had been this stuffed, and Rob couldn’t help but smile as he lumbered off to bed.
Day three started with that damn alarm clock again. How do people do it? Tracy had let Rob become so lazy over the last year that he now found it hard to get up. But he wanted more than anything to impress her with his prodigious appetite, so he made his way into the kitchen once more.
As much as he loved to eat, this non-stop binge was becoming almost like work. “It’s a dirty job but someone has to do it!”
The thought inspired him.
Rob collected the last of the meals and set them out with the remaining desserts as before. One by one he consumed them greedily. He lost all track of time. He was in a zone. His arms were moving, automatically feeding his face. Food scraps flew every which way. On through the day he continued to devour greedily and guzzle shakes. Was there no limit?
By nightfall his belly was distended from the over indulgence. The skin of this abdomen was stretched drum-tight, shiny in the light. He had polished off everything that she had bought for him, and he could hardly move. She would be so pleased!
The pain in his stomach was intense. He was sweating. Soon that feeling was replaced by a great sense of accomplishment. He sat back, his globular gut protruding outward, satisfied that he had done his best.
Looking around the kitchen, he now noticed the “regular” food. The everyday things that seem almost invisible. Cereals, canned goods, the ever-present party-sized bags of candy bars. Now it called to him. He struggled upright. He still had work to do!
Rob gathered what was left in the pantry and back of the cupboards. He cleaned out the fridge. Anything that was edible was brought forth. It was quite an array. He only had a few hours until Tracy came home, so he’d better get cracking!
When Tracy walked in the door later that night, she was dumbfounded. Her dumpling was sitting in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by an amazing variety of empty pans and food wrappers. Rob’s clothes were stained with multiple sauces and gravy. His shirt looked shrunken, exposing his vast bulk. Crumbs were everywhere. Chocolate was smeared on his beaming face, and he was still holding a large spoon.
“Welcome home! I’d get up to kiss you but I can’t,” he said, proudly.
She glanced around and saw that there was nothing left on the shelves. Tears welled up in her eyes.
“What’s the matter, darling?” Rob asked.
“I so sorry,” she sobbed, “I thought I had left you enough food, but it looks like I’ve half starved you.”
Tracy gazed lovingly at the immense mountain of fat that she called her husband, her face begging for forgiveness.
“I wouldn’t exactly say that,” soothed Rob. “But we do need to go shopping tomorrow. For now, just help me up so we can get to bed.”
She drew close and kissed him passionately.
