The Beginning My wife, Carrie, is the general counsel of a tech company in San Jose and has been for about five years. She has been there since day one and recently cashed out a boatload of options. That took us from "quite comfortable" to "filthy rich" and enabled me to leave my career as partner in a Big 4 accounting firm at the ripe old age of 40. I'm a pudgy guy and always have been and OK, I'm probably officially fat now, having broken the 300 pound mark right before leaving my old firm. I had been taking flak for years about my weight as the typical Big 4 partner is a skinny guy with good hair and I was a fatty with increasingly little hair. I was pleasantly surprised when I had met Carrie, ten years ago now, that she liked me big. I was about 225 pounds then but with a big belly that made me look like I weighed more. Even on our first date -- dinner, a movie, and an overnight stay at her condo -- she was groping at my belly and teasing me about my pudge. We got to her place around 11 and she insisted on baking us chocolate chip cookies, which she then proceeded to feed me one-by-one. Of course, that was after she had removed my shirt! She fed me with one hand while the other played with my little belly rolls and moobs. After I had polished off two dozen, she grabbed me by the hand and led me into her bedroom where she shoved me onto her bed and promptly climbed on top. She sat herself just a little above my knees and leaned over to tease my protruding belly with her pert little breasts before showering it with wet kisses, while telling me what a big sexy belly I had. Then she sensually licked the head of my cock while her hands gently kneeded my lower belly roll. I was rendered totally speachless and just kept uttering a low moan as she worked her tongue around my shaft and tugged and pulled at my belly blubber. Finally she raised up her torso, slid herself closer and whsipered "I need your big boy inside me big boy." I wrapped my arms around her slender hips, arched my back, and pulled her into me, eliciting a soft moan from her lips. Then she said "this is a pretty good first date, isn't it big boy?" "I'll say!" was all I could say before she continued. "The first time I saw you at the Silicon Valley Professionals Forum I knew I had to meet you .... and then when we met I knew I had to have you .... you were just so cute and pudgy, I just wanted to stuff a donut in your mouth and then kiss you and play with this all this belly fat." "I thought you were pretty hot too, but I had no idea that a smoking hot attorney with a smoking hot bod would have any use for a fat guy like me." "Stick with me big boy and you'll find how much use I will have for you! I can't believe you ate two dozen chocolate chip cookies -- I almost orgasmed right then and there it was so hot! And there will be a lot more where they came from -- a fat boy like you needs so much attention ..." When she said that I exploded into her like I'd never done to a woman before. And, before we both knew it, it was six months later and we were married. And I was twenty pounds heavier! The Early Years That wild first date set the stage for a whirlwind romance. I proposed to Carrie after just a month of seeing each other. She had accompanied me on a trip to Los Angeles one Friday where I had a meeting scheduled with a client. The meeting was over at 3 and we planned to head to Malibu right after that, where my plan was to pop the question over a romantic dinner overlooking the Pacific on Saturday evening. She picked me up from my client's office in Westwood in a rented Mustang convertible, top down, and we started heading to Malibu. Of course, it being L.A. and a Friday afternoon, we were stuck in traffic, and my stomach was rumbling something crazy as I had skipped lunch. Carrie heard its mournful cry, grabbed a handful of belly roll hanging out over my tight suit pants, and asked "is my fat boy hungry?" "I'm starved, you know I didn't have lunch." She smiled and said "I thought you might be hungry after your meeting so I picked you up something," then reached into the back seat and retrieved a big bag which contained noneother than two dozen Sprinkles cupcakes! "How did you know they are my favorites when I'm in L.A.?," I asked. She looked incredulously at me and said "we've been together a month now, don't you think I know what my fat boy likes by now?" "I never doubted you baby," I responded and ripped into the first box and grabbed a chocolate frosted yellow cupcake, my personal favorite. Needless to say, by the time we reached the Ritz-Carlton in Malibu there were no more cupcakes left and skinny little Carrie hadn't had a one. It also went without saying that she was totally turned on by my gluttony and once the bellhop closed the door behind him, I was immediately tackled onto the king bed. I had her sexy little sundress over her head in an instant while she struggled with my now tight-fitting belt and suit pants, commenting facetiously "I just don't understand why your clothes are so tight now Jack." I responded, "I've tried to keep it a secret baby, but I've got another girlfriend on the side who just insists on stuffing me with cupcakes." She giggled, as she finally got my belt unbuckled, and said "by the looks of things fat boy, I'd say she's stuffing you with donuts and cookies and pies too -- you are just becoming a big fat blimp!" "I know," I said, "I'm so fat. What are you going to do with me?" "I'll tell you what I'm gonna do fat boy. First I'm gonna *** you so I can see all your fat jiggle and shake. Then I'm gonna open up that mini bar and feed you everything in it, then I'm gonna be so turned on by your gluttony that I'm gonna *** you again, but only that time you're gonna be on top!" "I love you Carrie, you know just what I like ..." "That's right fat boy, food and sex!" Things intensified even more after we got married. As I mentioned, I gained twenty pounds in the six months leading to our marriage and packed on twenty more by the time we returned from our two-week Hawaiian honeymoon. That put me at 265 pounds and by the time I made partner at age 34 I was up to 320 pounds! Although Carrie knew I had to watch my weight since I was trying to make partner, she just couldn't resist pushing the sweets on me. Fortunately I was a good earner for the firm, with a $3 million book of business and well liked by my clients, so that didn't hold me back. But still, my office managing partner imposed a condition on my admission to the partnership -- that I had to go to a fat farm for three months to lose weight! I think that was a first for my firm ... Anyhow, it worked and I got down to 250 by the time I was admitted as partner. I actually liked it as I had more energy but Carrie was miserable for the longest time until she started gradually upping the portions of my meals and insisting that I eat dessert when we were out. Eventually I started putting on about ten to fifteen pounds a year until now, five years later, I am back to 300 pounds. It was also during this last five years that Carrie learned about some of my fantasies and that lead to me learning about hers too. One weekend, about four years ago, I thought she was working in the yard and made the mistake of leaving my laptop open while I went to the bathroom. When I returned there was Carrie sitting in my comfy home office chair perusing a story I was writing on Fantasy Feeder. It was about a 250 man (imagine that?) who discovered that his wife secretly wanted to turn him into a quarter ton mountain of blubber. I was aghast as I stood silently in the doorway, but I noticed that Carrie had a big smile on her face and was actually stroking herself between her legs as she read on and on. When she finally looked up and noticed me standing there she very nonchalantly said "I didn't realize you were such a good writer, I really really like this ... and babe, someday when we can afford it I'm going to help you live out this fantasy of yours." "Really?," I asked. "Really," she said, "because you know this is my fantasy too!" Early Retirement About the same time Carrie's company went public and we moved into that "fllthy rich" category of the 1%, I was getting pretty disenchanted with my firm. Although I was a good producer, there was just constant pressure to bring in even more revenue and I was just getting tired of the grind -- it wasn't fun anymore. Plus, my managing partner was giving me grief about my weight creeping up again as I had gained back 50 of the 70 pounds I had lost at the fat farm six years prior. Carrie absolutely loved me gaining back my long lost pounds but the firm did not and I was being told it just didn't look professional for a partner to weigh 300 pounds. I was actually thinking of chucking it in and starting my own small firm when Carrie's financial boat finally came in. Then, a few days after her windfall, she noticed me admiring my big belly as I stepped out of the shower. She came over and whispered in my ear "you are getting nice and round again," then she paused and whispered more "but I want you to get rounder, MUCH rounder." I whined back "but Carrie, the firm is already giving me grief about my weight and you want me to get fatter?" "*** the firm," she said, "we're financially set now, why don't you quit, take back your capital contribution, and kick back and live out your fantasies." "Which fantasies would those be?" "Well, maybe starting your own firm for one, and two, living out some of your Fantasy Feeder story lines." "Right," I said, "eat my way to 500 pounds? Those are just fantasies, this is real life." "Why not fat boy?" "There are plenty of reasons why not, including that you can't be seen married to a 500 pounder -- you'd be the joke of Silicon Valley! And if I started a firm what would my clients think of having a quarter ton guy as their advisor?" Carrie squeezed my big bottom roll, then reached up to play with my moobs, and dropped a bombshell on me -- "I don't care what other people think and neither should you -- I love it that you have gained back most of your weight and I want you to gain so much more for me. I love you fat boy and can't wait to see you buried in even more rolls and rolls of soft blubber. I want to show those old partners of yours what a proper fat man looks like, with you carrying around 500 pounds, walking proudly, belly swaying back and forth and looking oh so prosperous and powerful. Promise me you'll think about it?" "OK, I'll think about it," I said, then got ready to go to work. Six Months Later I made the mistake of wearing a suit into the office that day that fit me better twenty pounds before and fit such that my belly hung over the waistband of the pants. By happenstance I rode up in the elevator with my office managing partner. He took a look at me in disgust and exclaimed "my God Jim you have really packed on the pounds -- am I going to have to send you to the fat farm again? It's just not professional to be so ***ing fat." Fortunately the elevator was empty except for the two of us and I glared at the man and said exactly what was on my mind -- "*** you George and you can take this job and shove it, I ain't working here no more (I had always been a big fan of the Johnny Paycheck song, Take This Job and Shove It and had long wished to be able to tell someone that some day, and that was the day). Old George looked a little flabergasted and when I got off at my floor I strode straight to my office and typed up my resignation letter on the keyboard, sent it to the printer, and had my assistant hand-deliver it to George. Then I collected my things in a Xerox paper box and went home. But I stopped at Carl's Junior on the way (to grab my second breakfast), then did the drive thru at Krispy Kreme (for my mid-morning snack). When Carrie got home around 7 she found the Carl's Jr. bag sitting on the foyer table and the Krispy Kreme box in my study, both long since empty. Then she went into the kitchen and found the half a casserole left over from the night before completely eaten. Finally, she went into the family room and found me asleep on the couch, shirt unbuttoned, pants undone, belly bulging out precariously, and an empty bag of Lays chips and an empty 2 liter Coke littering the floor. "What happened?," she asked. I responded, "guess what, I quit today. And since I've got a one-year non-compete, I'm gonna do what you suggested and sit around for twelve months and get fat." "That's the best news I've ever had!," she exclaimed and came over to lay on top of me on the couch and shower me with kisses. Then she hauled me off my *** and led me to the bedroom. Midway there, she had an inspiration, "wait a minute fat boy, let's make this official and give you a weigh-in so we can track your gaining." Fortunately, we still had the 400-pound capacity scale from my pre-fat farm days when I had weighed over 300 pounds for about 18 months. We sidetracked to the master bath and gleefully said "climb on fat boy." I laughed and said "tell me that again in a couple of minutes!" Then I hopped on and the digital numbers whirred, finally coming to stop at 306.8. Carrie was giddy at the news and exclaimed "you'll be at 500 pounds in no time, I just know it." When we got to the bedroom, Carrie started doing a very sexy striptease for me and, since I was already naked from my weigh-in, she asked me to give her a little dance to help get her in the mood too. "Go ahead fat boy, shake it for me, shake those rolls of blubber, and think about how many more rolls you're going to add before I'm through with you ... that's it fatty, shake it like that .... I can't believe how you've gained back almost all your weight, you're such a blimp baby, and you're only gonna get fatter .... so much fatter ... now lift up that belly for me and show me what you've got underneath ... oh, you look locked and loaded tubby ... now drop it for me so I can see all the waves run thru that massive belly!" As I dropped my belly, then lifted and dropped it again for good measure, my staid lady lawyer of a wife ran straight at me and tackled me onto the bed. "Weren't you supposed to ask me something again?," I inquired. And she responded "climb on fat boy," and, as smoothly as a 306 pound man can, I rolled over on her 120 pound body, parted her athletic legs, and started having my way with her. I think that was the best sex of our lives (at least mine) up 'til then as she grasped my fat rolls with both hands pulling me deeper into her with each of my thrusts. And the whole time she was goading me about how fat I was and how good it was going to be when I got even fatter. "Baby, you're gonna be the fattest CPA in northern California ... and the sexiest too. Now keep ***ing me fatty ... harder ... deeper ... fatter!" The next few months were great fun. Since I was home all day it was easy to overeat. And I particularly liked leaving the evidence of my gluttony for Carrie to find when she came home from a hard day's work. Often I'd leave a trail of candy bar wrappers (Mounds, Baby Ruth, Almond Joy, Reese's, and so on, finally ending with a Mr. Goodbar right outside our bedroom door where I would be waiting naked (she even took to calling my penis Mr. Goodbar after that!). Or other times I'd leave empty fast food bags or an empty box of KFC to tantalize her. Or she would come home and find a couple dozen Krispy Kreme donuts arrayed around me in the bed, just waiting for her to feed them to her fat husband. We had innumerable nights of great sex after that. But despite all my gluttony, I hadn't gained that much weight by the six-month mark. I was only at about 330 and finally Carrie expressed her displeasure at my progress and suggested a quite radical solution. "I told you I wanted you rounder, A LOT ROUNDER, and you're letting me down fat boy! It's obvious to me that you need help to make it to 500 pounds because you're never gonna get there on your own. And I'm too busy at work to feed you properly, which has had me racking my brain figuring out what to do." I looked repentant and promised I'd eat more for her, at least until my non-compete ran out and I could start recruiting my old clients to the new firm I would start. "Promises, promises," she said, "I want action, I want 170 more pounds on that body of yours!" "So what are you thinking counselor?" "Well, funny you should ask. You know our company is looking at getting more costs off its balance sheet and that got me thinking that could work for you too. I've been thinking about off-shoring and out-sourcing options to get you fattened up to the optimal level. I figure there has to be some entreprenuerial service provider out there who could take you and fatten you up to 500 over the next six months." "Those people are just legend," I said, "people like me who write fat fiction stories just dream them but they don't really exist. Just like the story we collaborated on where the rich wife has her husband faux-kidnapped to finally get him as fat as she wants him to be." Carrie smiled and said "I bet they do exist and I just have to do my research to find 'em fat boy. And in a few months you'll be the quarter ton blubber boy of my dreams ... and yours." I looked incredulously at her and said "what are you gonna do, Google reverse fat farm?" "That might be a start," she said. "I bet you $100,000 I can find someone to turn you into an even bigger blimp." "But where?" I asked. "I don't know, San Francisco is a pretty kinky city so I wouldn't be surprised if I could find someone there. Or New Orleans or Miami. Or New York, it's so big there has to be something for every kink there. Or we could off-shore your fattening, I bet we could find something in Rio or Amsterdam or Bangkok ... or Berlin, those Germans just pretend to be conservative!" I laughed again at my crazy and rich wife and said "I'll be waiting, let me know when you find a weight gain camp for me!" Little did I know that it would be right in my backyard ... Hitting 350 It had been about a month since Carrie had mentioned out-sourcing and off-shoring as options for fattening me up into her quarter ton blubber boy. And since she hadn't mentioned any promising leads on fatteners for hire I figured the odds were pretty good that I'd win her $100,000 bet. In the interim I had been working on increasing my caloric intake and had put on about fifteen pounds, which I thought was pretty damn good. That put me up close to 350 pounds, more than twenty pounds over my heaviest ever weight, and I thought my sagging belly and growing moobs were looking pretty damn good too. In fact, every time I looked in the mirror I gave myself a bit of a hard on and it was definitely sending Carrie's motor into overdrive too. It seemed like we had sex every night even though she was usually tired after a hard day of legal work for a hot start up. Since I wasn't working I had plenty of time to devote to eating and I was actually suprised that I had only gained fifteen pounds during the month. At the rate I was packing it away I sort of expected to have a gain of at least a pound a day but all the calories were only adding up to a mere half pound daily gain. That morning I decided to up the caloric intake more than usual and headed to my favorite diner where I planned to pig out. But first, I stopped at the Krispy Kreme on the route and grabbed a half dozen of their original glazed donuts as my breakfast appetizer. Once the donuts took the edge off my hunger, I headed to the diner and was greeted by the hostess, who had become my good friend over the last thirty days (as I went there at least three times a week). She was about my age and a shade on the pudgy side, and I noticed she didn't have a wedding band, and kind of a flirt. "Right this way," she said, "table or booth?" Then she gave me a sly grin and said, as giving my tummy a pat, "oh that's right, this big old thing won't fit in a booth, will it?" "Not if you keep feeding me like you have," I responded with a wink of the eye, to which she responded, "hon, if you keep eating like you have, we're gonna have to widen the door to get you in here!" Needless to say, that got my blood flowing and I had momentary thoughts of taking her right there on the table ... Ninety minutes later I finally asked for the check, after having consumed two three-egg omelets, a waffle, a stack of pancakes, hashbrowns, and four orders of bacon. My friendly hostess, Bambi was her name (I'm not kidding), came over personally to help me get up as I was so full I wasn't sure I could make it on my own. As I draped my arm over her shoulder for support as I walked toward the door, she congratulated me on my gluttony, saying "that was one of the most impressive eating performances I've ever seen and we get a LOT of big eaters in here." "I shouldn't have eaten that much," I moaned, "feel like I'm gonna burst." Bambi opened the door for me and kept walking me to the car, and continued her banter, "if you were my man, I'd take you home and put you to bed and give you a nice tummy rub to relax those tight stomach muscles." "And ..." I said, feeling emboldened by her flirtiness. "And then I'd stuff some more food into you and make that belly REALLY big!" "If I weren't married I might take you up on that Bambi." "Well, if your wife ever decides you're too fat, you know where to find me -- I'll make a real fat man out of you. But, for now, I gotta get back to work and you need to go home and sleep off all this food." As I sat down in the car and she walked away, I slipped my hand down between my legs and, as I suspected, I was rock hard from my encounter with Bambi. And, for the briefest of moments, I wondered to myself whether Carrie might be into a three-way with me and Bambi ... On the way home, I stopped by Krispy Kreme again, but this time bought two dozen to tide me over for the rest of the day. When I got home, though still stuffed, I ate a couple, then headed to the master suite to weigh myself. I was curious if I had broken the 350 mark and when I climbed aboard I found I had! 351.2 -- I was pretty proud of myself and I knew Carrie would be ecstatic when she arrived home that night. Still naked from my weigh-in, I walked back to the foyer where I had left my donuts, grabbed one of the boxes, then grabbed my iPad from the bedroom and went back into the bath where there was a full-length mirror. Giddy from the fact that I now weighed over 350 pounds, I decided to record the moment for Carrie, stepping back on the scale to show my immense weight, then striding over to the full-length mirror -- belly rolls flopping up and down with every step -- to record myself consuming the whole dozen. I reached for a donut with hand while grasping my belly rolls with the other, occasionally pausing to lift my belly with both hands and let it drop, sending massive ripples and waves through my belly fat. I couldn't wait to show it to Carrie that night, but then I was startled by a sound and turned to see her standing in the doorway to the master bath, with her skirt pulled up and one hand between her thighs. "Oh God," I said, "how long have you been standing there? I didn't hear you come in." "Obviously not, and I didn't want to interrupt you as you appeared to be having so much fun hamming it up for the camera. But don't worry, I've only been standing here for a minute or so, I came home to share some news." "Well, I have some news too and that was why I was putting on the little show here." Then I grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the scale, hopped on, and showed her the result. "Oh baby," she said, "you are so fat, 351 pounds, the most ever for you," and gave me a big hug and kiss. "In fact, you're so fat now, I can't get my arms all the way around you ... that is so damned sexy!" I was already totally aroused from finding that I had broken the 350 barrier and having Carrie there in my arms made things even more intense. I backed her up against the countertop and ripped open her blouse, snapping off all the buttons, then her bra was gone in a couple of more seconds. Then, before I could get that far, she had her skirt undone and the panties were gone in no time flat too. "It looked my little show was turning you on," I whispered in her ear as I reached my hands behind her and lifted her sexy ass onto the countertop. As she leaned backwards on her hands, I spread her legs and inserted my thumb and forefinger into her dripping wet vagina and gave her clitoris a sensual pinch, then another, and whispered in her ear, "what was your news?" "I found ... (pause, gasp) ... a (gasp) ... an (gasp) ... outsource (pause, gasp, gasp) ... feeder (gasp)." I continued working my fingers and thumb around inside her, driving her increasingly wild with desire, while I asked "outsource and not off-shore?" "That's right Fatty ... (gasp) ... right (gasp, gasp) ... right here (gasp) ... in San Jose (gasp)." "Really?," I asked somewhat incredulously. "Shut up Fatty (gasp) ... I need you (gasp) ... inside me (gasp) ... NOW!" Uncertain of the logistics with her seated on the counter and my enormous belly in the way, I quickly leaned into her, threw her over my shoulder in a fireman's carry, and scurried off to the bedroom next door. Throwing her down on the bed, I pulled her to the edge while I remained standing, then raised her legs and opened them wide to reveal her promised land. "Drop that belly on me, Fatty," she commanded, and I hoisted it up and let it drop between her legs and onto her taught little torso as I entered her and began thrusting with 351 pounds of force. With each thrust, she gave me a new detail on my new feeders. "Created by a tech billionairre ... (oh baby) to fatten up his mistress ... (harder Fat Boy!) in an old resort hotel (faster baby!) now handles five people at a time (faster!) had a vacancy (fatter baby!) and you're in (gonna make you so much fatter!)" And with that, I exploded my load into her and my legs buckled, sending my full weight onto her. "Sorry baby," I said, struggling to get off her. "Stay right where you are, Fat Boy," she moaned, "you're right where I want you."