WG Story Drone
Well-Known Member
~BHM, Feeding, ~MWG A young man enters a feeding relationship with a foodee restaurant critic.
(Migrated from the Weight Room Anonymous Archives.)
Since I was in college, I had been slender. At 6" and 140 pounds, I was skinny as a reed. That was, until I met Linda.
We met through a blind date, suggested by my friend Al. Linda and I talked over the phone, and she described herself as "needing to lose 20 pounds." When she asked if that bothered me, I said no. I have always enjoyed the plump figure.
I fell for Linda the moment I saw her. She was wearing a black and gold blouse, which showed off her blue eyes and blond hair. She was truly stunning. I also noted with satisfaction that she was quite a bit plumper than she had let on over the phone. My guess was that she weighed around 230 pounds. We had coffee, and then arranged to meet for a dinner at her place the next week.
On arriving at her apartment, I was greeted with a feast in preparation. On the dinner table was a seven-course meal, including incredible desserts. In wandering around the kitchen, I noticed several plaques, for cooking contests that Linda had won. It turned out that she was a restaurant and wine critic for the local paper, and had gone to culinary school in France before eventually leaving the restaurant business. It was during her time as a cook that she had put on most of her weight, she said.
We sat down to dinner and pleasant conversation, and I must say that I have never had a more incredible meal. After around an hour I was completely and utterly stuffed, and yet had not gotten around to dessert. Linda frowned when I told her I simply could not eat anymore.
"I can see I'm going to have to work on improving your appetite," she said. "I like my men to be healthy eaters; how else can I indulge my love of cooking?"
I agreed to try to eat more after a short rest, and we retired to the living room where we gazed in each other's eyes, and made some brief chit chat before the talk turned to sex. Linda confessed that she was very attracted to me, but was concerned that my eating habits would not allow her to involve me in her favorite sexual fantasy, which was force-feeding. I countered by saying that I would try anything once, and that I would be honest with her if I disliked it.
With that, Linda asked if I wanted to stay the night, and I said yes. We undressed, and went into the bedroom for some of the best sex I have ever had. For my part, I found it very enjoyable to sleep next to Linda's soft and round body.
In the morning, I awoke to find Linda bringing in a huge tray of pancakes, drenched in maple syrup, in order to serve me breakfast in bed. The pancakes were incredible, and while I was eating, Linda asked quizzed me on all my food favorites.
Over the next few weeks, we developed a ritual. I would come over on Friday night, and quickly change into a loose fitting robe. Linda would then serve me an incredible feast until I was ready to burst, and we would retire to the bedroom. For the rest of the weekend, I would eat five huge meals a day, punctuated by sex and naps to sleep it off.
After a month, I had developed a hint of a belly, but had only gained five pounds. Linda said that this was very typical for very skinny men; only after months of her cooking would my metabolism slow enough to allow me to "fill out." However, every Monday morning we would monitor my weight, which she would note on a chart in the bathroom.
By the end of the second month, I had gained another 10 pounds, and in the third month, another 15 pounds. I now had the beginnings of a potbelly, which seemed to give Linda considerable encouragement. "We've finally got something to work with!" she gleefully exclaimed, poking me in the tummy. "Now all we've got to do is keep this belly nice and full!"
And that she did. Linda increased my food intake 30% in the coming weeks, while urging me to cut down on exercise to allow for some serious weight gain. Those gains were not long in coming. During the fourth month I gained almost 30 pounds, and now was on the verge of becoming portly.
Linda was nearly ecstatic about my hefty weight gain, and loved to massage and kneed my growing belly. She joked that I was a "growing boy," and needed to get my "minimum daily requirements," which of course involved consuming thousands of calories of her delicious meals.
Of course all this weight gain was playing havoc with my wardrobe. My waist, which had initially been 30 inches, was now up to 41 inches. One weekend, after I had changed into my robe, Linda showed me some new clothes she had bought me. The pants were a size 57 waist! I could not believe how big they were. "They're huge!" I said. "Do you really want me to get that fat?"
"They're not so big," Linda said. "And, anyway, at the rate you're gaining, these should be tight by Christmas."
She was right. The months went by in a blur of continuous gorging, with Linda stuffing more and more food into me every weekend, and the scale marching upwards at a rapid pace. Just before Thanksgiving, my weight reached 275 pounds, and Linda vowed to have me "over the top" by New Year's Day.
Ironically, while my weight was ballooning, Linda's was plummeting. With all the attention she was paying to my feeding, she had lost interest in eating, and over eight months her weight fell from 230 pounds to just over 155 pounds. At 5" 10 inches tall, she now barely hinted at her former chubbiness; her hips had lost most of their extra flesh, and her once soft ass was now firm and shapely. Her tummy, which had once bulged provocatively, was now nearly flat.
By New Year's Eve, those size 57 pants were quite tight on me, and after almost 24 hours of continuous stuffing, they split apart with a loud rip just before midnight. At that point, Linda oiled down my bulging belly, gave me a wonderful massage, and asked if I would marry her.
I looked at my gorgeous feeder and thought of all the meals and massages to come in the years ahead.
You know what my answer was.
His Feeder
by Anonymous
by Anonymous
(Migrated from the Weight Room Anonymous Archives.)
Since I was in college, I had been slender. At 6" and 140 pounds, I was skinny as a reed. That was, until I met Linda.
We met through a blind date, suggested by my friend Al. Linda and I talked over the phone, and she described herself as "needing to lose 20 pounds." When she asked if that bothered me, I said no. I have always enjoyed the plump figure.
I fell for Linda the moment I saw her. She was wearing a black and gold blouse, which showed off her blue eyes and blond hair. She was truly stunning. I also noted with satisfaction that she was quite a bit plumper than she had let on over the phone. My guess was that she weighed around 230 pounds. We had coffee, and then arranged to meet for a dinner at her place the next week.
On arriving at her apartment, I was greeted with a feast in preparation. On the dinner table was a seven-course meal, including incredible desserts. In wandering around the kitchen, I noticed several plaques, for cooking contests that Linda had won. It turned out that she was a restaurant and wine critic for the local paper, and had gone to culinary school in France before eventually leaving the restaurant business. It was during her time as a cook that she had put on most of her weight, she said.
We sat down to dinner and pleasant conversation, and I must say that I have never had a more incredible meal. After around an hour I was completely and utterly stuffed, and yet had not gotten around to dessert. Linda frowned when I told her I simply could not eat anymore.
"I can see I'm going to have to work on improving your appetite," she said. "I like my men to be healthy eaters; how else can I indulge my love of cooking?"
I agreed to try to eat more after a short rest, and we retired to the living room where we gazed in each other's eyes, and made some brief chit chat before the talk turned to sex. Linda confessed that she was very attracted to me, but was concerned that my eating habits would not allow her to involve me in her favorite sexual fantasy, which was force-feeding. I countered by saying that I would try anything once, and that I would be honest with her if I disliked it.
With that, Linda asked if I wanted to stay the night, and I said yes. We undressed, and went into the bedroom for some of the best sex I have ever had. For my part, I found it very enjoyable to sleep next to Linda's soft and round body.
In the morning, I awoke to find Linda bringing in a huge tray of pancakes, drenched in maple syrup, in order to serve me breakfast in bed. The pancakes were incredible, and while I was eating, Linda asked quizzed me on all my food favorites.
Over the next few weeks, we developed a ritual. I would come over on Friday night, and quickly change into a loose fitting robe. Linda would then serve me an incredible feast until I was ready to burst, and we would retire to the bedroom. For the rest of the weekend, I would eat five huge meals a day, punctuated by sex and naps to sleep it off.
After a month, I had developed a hint of a belly, but had only gained five pounds. Linda said that this was very typical for very skinny men; only after months of her cooking would my metabolism slow enough to allow me to "fill out." However, every Monday morning we would monitor my weight, which she would note on a chart in the bathroom.
By the end of the second month, I had gained another 10 pounds, and in the third month, another 15 pounds. I now had the beginnings of a potbelly, which seemed to give Linda considerable encouragement. "We've finally got something to work with!" she gleefully exclaimed, poking me in the tummy. "Now all we've got to do is keep this belly nice and full!"
And that she did. Linda increased my food intake 30% in the coming weeks, while urging me to cut down on exercise to allow for some serious weight gain. Those gains were not long in coming. During the fourth month I gained almost 30 pounds, and now was on the verge of becoming portly.
Linda was nearly ecstatic about my hefty weight gain, and loved to massage and kneed my growing belly. She joked that I was a "growing boy," and needed to get my "minimum daily requirements," which of course involved consuming thousands of calories of her delicious meals.
Of course all this weight gain was playing havoc with my wardrobe. My waist, which had initially been 30 inches, was now up to 41 inches. One weekend, after I had changed into my robe, Linda showed me some new clothes she had bought me. The pants were a size 57 waist! I could not believe how big they were. "They're huge!" I said. "Do you really want me to get that fat?"
"They're not so big," Linda said. "And, anyway, at the rate you're gaining, these should be tight by Christmas."
She was right. The months went by in a blur of continuous gorging, with Linda stuffing more and more food into me every weekend, and the scale marching upwards at a rapid pace. Just before Thanksgiving, my weight reached 275 pounds, and Linda vowed to have me "over the top" by New Year's Day.
Ironically, while my weight was ballooning, Linda's was plummeting. With all the attention she was paying to my feeding, she had lost interest in eating, and over eight months her weight fell from 230 pounds to just over 155 pounds. At 5" 10 inches tall, she now barely hinted at her former chubbiness; her hips had lost most of their extra flesh, and her once soft ass was now firm and shapely. Her tummy, which had once bulged provocatively, was now nearly flat.
By New Year's Eve, those size 57 pants were quite tight on me, and after almost 24 hours of continuous stuffing, they split apart with a loud rip just before midnight. At that point, Linda oiled down my bulging belly, gave me a wonderful massage, and asked if I would marry her.
I looked at my gorgeous feeder and thought of all the meals and massages to come in the years ahead.
You know what my answer was.
