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Well-Known Member
May 3, 2014
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."
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Well-Known Member
May 3, 2014
The Feeding Agreement

Carrie took a rare day off that Friday, in order to take me for my interview at the "day care center." They wanted me to come in "comfortable" clothes, preferably exercise clothing, of which a guy like me clearly had none. So Carrie had to take me out a couple of nights before to the closest DXL store where we found some gym shorts and a t-shirt in 4-X, which made me feel like an absolute blimp as we left the house for the interview.

"Don't worry babe, you look totally hot in that exercise outfit, although Heaven knows the only exercise you'll ever get at this place is cramming more food in your mouth!" That totally comforted me (not), but Carrie went on, "it's not like they haven't seen a fat man before, in fact, you're probably one of the skinniest they have seen in a while!" That did make me feel a little better, but if 350 + was "skinny" I only imagined what blimps they had at this place.

When we arrived, we were met at the front door by the day care center director, Dora, herself a pretty hefty lady, probably at least 250 pounds, but she was tall -- taller than me by a couple of inches -- and looked rather statuesque -- perhaps the textbook illustration of an Amazonian godess. I was daydreaming how it might be to have a big powerful beauty like her manhandling me when I hit 400, then 500 pounds ... until Carrie brought me back to the here and now with an elbow to the belly which sent my fat rolls gyrating wildly.

Dora escorted us into her well appointed office where she commenced to share a history of the center. "As Carrie may have shared with you, we were founded about two years with the inspiration of a well-known technology billionaire, but we can't say who, and he is our generous benefactor."

I asked "is it true that he created this to fatten up his mistress and, if so, how did it work out?"

Dora frowned at me and responded "it wouldn't be polite for me to answer that," but then she winked her eye at me and said "but that rumor might not be too far from the truth. And it also might be true, but I certainly could not confirm or deny, that our benefactor was most pleased with the results, as his lover may have doubled in weight while here. But that is just conjecture and, of course, I cannot confirm nor deny."

"Of course!," Carrie and I responded in near unison.

"Now," Dora said, "let's get down to business and have you step over to the corner here for a weigh-in." As Carrie and I walked over to the giant scale, which looked like it could be used to weigh livestock, Dora asked that I remove my flip flops and t-shirt, "to get a more accurate measurement."

"Very impressive Mr. Jackson, you weigh 354 pounds. Granted, that makes you a lightweight around here, but it's still very impressive for a man your height and who has yet to reach his full gaining potential."

"Thanks ... I guess," was all I could say. Then she had me stand against the wall so she could measure my height. "Five feet nine and a quarter inches." "Are you sure?," I asked, "I used to measure five nine and three-quarters and those extra two quarters are important to me!" "Don't worry," Dora said, "it's common for men and women to lose a little height as they get heavier, you know, it's the whole gravity thing that Newton discovered ... the more weight, the closer gravity pulls you to the ground!"

"And speaking of gravity, let me check out one other thing," as she reached with both hands and yanked my exercise shorts down beneath my belly overhang. "Oh my," she said, "it looks like gravity has had quite an effect on this belly of yours ... this apron is hanging REALLY low, isn't it Mrs. Jackson?" Carrie responded "very low indeed and I can't wait to see it hanging down below his knees after he finishes his time here!" Dora chuckled and added, "hmmm, I would have thought a woman like you Mrs. Jackson would fantacize about her husband's belly touching the ground," then both of them broke out in laughter.

"Now," Dora said, "let's get down to business. Mr. Jackson, I believe you are an excellent candidate for our program. You have gotten a great head start on fattening yourself up and your build -- with those broad shoulders and strong and still skinny legs and butt -- suggests that you can pack on a LOT more pounds." "Just what I thought too," Carrie chimed in.

"Now you and your wife just need to decide what program is right for you. We offer three-month, six-month, and one-year agreements, it just depends upon how much you want to ... ummm ... grow ... and how fast, of course."

Carrie responded, "I was thinking a six-month program." "That's our most popular option," Dora said, "but quite a few of our participants like it so much, they re-up for a second six months. They kind of go from being the fat man or woman of their dreams to the fat man or woman of their WILDEST dreams, if you know what I mean!"

"Let's leave it at six months," I said emphatically. "OK then," Dora continued, "now let's talk about the optimal weight gain. We guarantee our participants a minimum one pound per day weight gain during the five days a week they are here. So, with 26 weeks in a half year, with two weeks off for vacation and holidays, five days a week, that would mean you should emerge from our program another 120 pounds heavier, or let's do the math ... at 474 pounds!"

"I dunno," Carrie said, "I was hoping he would be just a bit heavier after six months."

"Well then Mrs. Jackson, for only a nominal amount more, we can shoot for two pounds a day, which would put your sexy husband at .... 594 pounds, almost 600, would that be enough for you? And I might add, if you can help him add just one pound a day during the days he's not here, that would be another 62 pounds, putting him well over 650." Then she looked me in the eye and leared, "you will be such a sexy beast at 6-5-Oh, I might try to steal you from Mrs. Jackson!"

"Not a chance honey," Carrie, this Tub o' Lard is mine, all mine," and the two women laughed heartily.

"So what do you two think?," Dora asked. Before I could answer, Carrie said "let's go for the two pounds a day plan, it's well worth it whatever it costs." "In that case then," Dora grinned (no doubt contemplating the commission she would receive from signing me), that will be $350,000. And you're right, it's such a bargain since the cost is subsidized by our benefactor, who wants as many people as possible to share the same joy he had when his lover became the fat man of both their dreams."

Carrie pulled out her checkbook, then paused and asked, "now was the lover turned into the fat man of their dreams or the fat man of their WILDEST dreams?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny," Dora said with the biggest of grins.

The First Day

The next Monday at 7 a.m. sharp the daycare center's Maybach limo (a more luxiourious and far pricier version of the top of the line Mercedes Benz) pulled up in front of our home to pick me up. I came out in my exercise gear and a 5X robe bearing the center's logo, feeling very fat, but to my surprise another "student" was already in the limo and she had to outweigh me by at least 200 pounds! And, she was surrounded by boxes of pastry that she seemed to have put quite a serious dent into.

We introduced ourselves, her name was Pam, and it turned out she was a "boarding" student as she normally lived in Seattle. As the longest-running student, Dora the director had asked her to ride with me that first day to help get me better acclimated to the center.

We hit it off immediately as we shared the distinction of having rich and powerful spouses or, in her case I imagined, benefactors. She didn't say it, but I imagined that she might be the mistress of a major Seattle tech player ... she just seemed to be throwing off those vibes as she never mentioned a husband and I knew someone with deep pockets had to be footing her bill ... or maybe it was even the center's anonymous benefactor, in my mind I was thinking someone like ... well I'll just keep that to myself to avoid being sued for libel!

A couple of minutes into the drive, Pam absentmindedly looked at the pink boxes of pastry, and picked one up and handed it to me. It was full of my favorites, chocolate eclairs! "Sorry," she said, "these were actually for you, but I seem to have eaten about half them (and there were ten boxes!)." It was an hours drive in the dreadful northern California traffic and we shared a delightful conversation along the way as we proceeded to polish off the pastries in their entirety, plus a cannister each of weighgain shake that had been prepared for us.

When we finally pulled up in front of the center Pam struggled to extricate her ponderous belly and extra wide hips from the big Maybach and pink boxes came tumbling out on the pavement while she giggled uncontrollably at her predicament and told me "this will be you in a few months!"

As we waddled toward the front door, Pam said "let's compare our statistics, I'll start, I'm 5'8" and 632 pounds (so she's not twice as big as me after all, I thought). And you?"

"I'm 5'9" and as of my interview here, I weighed 354 pounds."

"So you're a lightweight," she cackled, "but not for long. I only weighed 250 when I came here and now look at me. They'll probably have you at 650 or 700 by the time you leave."

"I was hoping to keep it to 500 or 550 ..."

"Good luck Fatso, the way you dug into the remaining pastries with me, you've got a lot of tonnage ahead of you." But she said it in such a sweet way I took absolutely no offense whatsoever.

Once inside, we were greeted by Dora who led us to the main dining room where the other three current "students" were already dining. Although there were only five of us, there seemed to be at least three servers per student and they were constantly hustling back and forth from the kitchen. There was a big table for each of us, covered from stem to stern in miniature mountains of delectables, constantly being replenished by the hustling servers. As I was led to my own table, my mouth was watering uncontrollably as there appeared to be enough there to feed an army, but it was all for one man, and that was me!

There was so much food I instantly knew why Pam projected an end weight for me of 600 to 700 pounds. Hell, with all this food, and just for me, I'd be lucky not to weigh 800 pounds by the time my six-month plan ran its course. And poor Pam ... being here 24/7, she'd be lucky not to weigh a half ton by the time she was done.

I just hoped Carrie, and Pam's anonymous lover, would appreciate the results of their investments ...

Mid-term Break

The center shut down for two weeks about the midway point of my six month stint, to give our exhausted cooking and serving staff a well-deserved break. After all, feeding five super-fatties to previously unimaginable weights was hard work. It was also hard on us fatties eating so much and I was kind of looking forward to the break myself.

I had achieved the promised two pounds a day gain at the center and seemed to be adding about a pound a day on the weekends too. All told, I'd added 160 pounds, which brought me up to about 515 pounds, far more than I ever imagined that I could ever weigh (and I had three months left!).

To celebrate, Carrie arranged a two week vacation from her company and selected an exclusive resort for the wealthy in Hawaii (that was huge as she hadn't taken a vacation in two years). Since I was going to have some difficulty fitting even in a first class seat, she arranged a private flight on a posh Gulfstream owned by the CEO of her company and had an extra large seat installed for me for the flight. During the five-hour flight the steward kept me supplied with delicious snacks, simply five-star junk food, including high-brow desserts and low-brow delicacies like Twinkies and Pringles. And Carrie gushed about how she wanted to get me out on the nude beach on the property as she'd always wanted to bang a "bronzed quarter tonner!"

Once at the resort, I discovered just how exclusive it was, as it was a huge property with maybe twenty guests at most, sumptious rooms, and even more sumptious meals and room service, all included in the $10,000 a night price tag. Our first full day there, after a breakfast worthy of the daycare center, we got our suits on (mine an 8X) and a golf cart resembling a Rolls-Royce shuttled us down to the beach and what seemed like a gold-plated cabana for the two of us.

The cabana was as big as a four-room hotel suite, equipped with a king-sized bed, mirrors on the walls and ceiling of the main bedroom, a sunken tub that would hold at least four people my size, and a fully stocked kitchen and bar. After tipping the staff and sending them away, Carrie quickly stripped off my 9X custom made Havana shirt and massive swim trunks, revealing the full extent of the daycare center's work over the past three months. "My lord," she said, "I can't believe how massive your belly is, it is hanging WAY down there ... it's halfway toward your knees and you still have three months to go in the program." "I know," I said, "it will probably be below my knees by the time I'm finished." Then I asked cautiously, "are you sure that is what you want?" "It is exactly what I want," she responded, then pushed me backwards onto the bed, pushed my belly apron back with all her strength, and mounted me like I was a beached sperm whale.

With all the noise she was making I hoped that the cabana walls were soundproofed, otherwise everyone in the neighboring cabanas would hear he screaming at the top of her lungs what a "fat ***" I was!

After she finished her rambunctous ride we cleaned ourselves up a bit and she brought me a snack from the kitchen, two dozen chocolate chip cookies the resort staff had baked that morning and left waiting for us in the warming drawer of the oven. She had one and I had the remaining 23 and they were gone in short order. As I polished off the last one, I absentmindedly said "I'm sorry, did you want that last one?" She reached under the waistband of my swim trunks, grabbed two big handfuls of belly lard, and said "no baby, those were all for you and I felt guilty taking even that one cookie from you."

I was so in love with her at that point that I backed her up against the granite countertop and almost took her right there. We had a torrid makeout session as if we were teenagers and I quickly had my fat fingers inside her very skimpy bikini brief and she was moaning and making a terrible racket again for all the neighboring cabanas to hear. Finally, she pushed me back, but not before orgasming again, and pleaded that we needed to get out on the beach to "get some tan on that white blubber." And then she promised to jump my blubber again after lunch.

As we left the cabana to find our beach chairs, mine specially fabricated by the resort staff to contain all my enormity, we discovered we were the only people on the beach wearing swimgear. Since it was a nude beach, we expected some nudity, but not for everyone to be in the buff. And while I was more than happy to parade around in nothing for my wife, I wasn't sure I wanted others to see all 515 pounds in the nude.

Then, to make matters worse, somebody about fifty yards away called Carrie's name. As I focused my eyes in the bright Hawaiian sun, I saw more clearly two tall and very skinny men, one who looked about our age and another maybe ten years younger, get out of their chairs and start walking toward us (and, fortunately, they both put some shorts on before they started over). As they got a little closer, Carrie recognized one of them and yelled out into the distance "hi Tony, what brings you here?" Then she explained that Tony was the founder of a mid-sized tech company in San Francisco and, as the two men got within speaking distance, everyone got introduced to one another. But not before Tony's companion gave me a leering look. I quickly deduced that he was or had been in the past a chubby chaser.

That's when Carrie introduced me as her husband and Toni introduced "Carl" as his newlywed husband whose ceremony had recently been officiated by California's Governor. "And you didn't invite me?," Carrie asked, feigning indignation at the slight. "Sorry Carrie," Tony responded with a grin, "private ceremony, you know, only a few family members and what not." "Of course Tony, I was only busting your chops," Carrie responded with a smile.

We kept chatting for a few more minutes and Carrie and Tony were acting like it was old home week, while Carl and I were kind of the odd men out of the conversation. Frankly, I was getting a little uncomfortable because Carl's gaze seemed to be firmly affixed upon my belly and, even though he was wearing shorts, I could clearly tell that he had an erection underneath. I felt a little like the big-chested woman who wanted to say "my eyes are up here," but at the same time it was kind of flattering that someone seemed to be hitting on me at my current obesity level.

Finally, Tony commented that he and Carl should be moving on, as it was their last day at the resort and they were flying out on the redeye to San Francisco that evening. As they wandered back to their chaisses I saw Gary look back at me a couple of times and Carrie started laughing madly and commented that she thought she was going to have to step in to keep Gary's hands off of me, then she reached under my belly overhang and discovered that I had a partial boner. "Hmm," she said, "I see Gary wasn't the only one on the beach with some wood. He turned you on a little didn't he?"

Then she spread her hands to my sides and started sliding my swim trunks down to my knees, and reached up again and pulled my shirt up over my floppy breasts. Soon her lips were suckling on my breasts while her hands were firmly grasping and wobbling my belly rolls up and down. I did a quick turn of my head from right to left and noticed Tony and Gary and the couple on the other side of us fifty yards down the beach all checking out Carrie's little show.

Soon my trunks and shirt were completely off and Carrie was lifting then dropping my belly, creating waves that rivaled the ocean's. "Aren't you wearing too many clothes?", I asked, and Carrie obliged by removing her tiny little bikini top and her even tinier bottom. Then she started rubbing her naked breasts against my belly and quickly pivoted around to grind her sexy rear end into said belly, sending it bouncing up and down wildly. By then, the couples that were about a hundred yards down beach from us started coming closer to see what was going on and I turned my head to see four or five of the beach staff with eyes glued on Carrie's every move with me.

It was embarrassing and highly arousing all at the same time and I finally decided to just go with it. After all, if we were paying $10,000 a day everybody can put up with seeing a quarter ton man and his 110 pound wife getting frisky on the beach! And if they didn't like it, they could kiss my big ***, even Gary if he wanted to.

Carrie's next performance was to apply old shool suntan oil, which probably had an SPF rating of a whopping five, all over my body. I felt like I was glistening by the time she finished and it took the entire bottle to cover all of my real estate! I kind of imagined former chubby chaser Gary looking over at us with a full on erection and was actually kind of proud that we (or rather I) could elicit that kind of reaction.

In fact, I was so horny by then, I asked the helpful staff to lay out some towels for us, one for Carrie and three for me, so that we could lay side-by-side on the beach and engage in another NC-17 rated make-out session, this time with Carrie reaching under my overhang to give me the finest handjob I'd ever received. Of course, since we were lieing face-to-face and the closest people were fifty yards away, no one could really see what were doing, but I suspected they knew exactly what was going on!

All the while Carrie was trash talking me about what would happen when we ventured back to the cabana for lunch. "First I'm gonna order you so much food you can't possibly finish it all ... but you will, you always do, you just love to eat don't you? Sometimes I even wonder if you love food more than me. But that's OK Fatty 'cause after you eat everything I'm gonna give you another proper ***ing like I did this morning. You'll just have to lay there like a big mountain of blubber and let me do all the work. You'll be so fat and so helpless ...

Daycare Graduation -- Carrie's Viewpoint

FULL DISCLOSURE: In describing our lead character's appearance at the end of his six month weight gain program, I have borrowed liberally from the excellent WG story, Ten Years. The author of that story, Imogen Baker-Bell, said it better than I could possibly ever do, so hopefully she doesn't mind too much me appropriating her wonderful prose, which is found in the seventh thru ninth paragraphs below.

* * * * *

My husband, who grew sexier with every pound, finally finished his six-month program at the daycare center, which I had taken to referring to as "Hungry Hubby," even though I knew there was one woman there. Initially I was afraid that my tubby hubby might be interested in her, Pam was her name. But what I found was that they were just good friends who shared the same passion, and that was to please their mates by becoming as fat as they possibly could.

In my husband's case, that passion particularly manifested itself after we returned from our midterm vacation to Hawaii. The sex while we were there was incredible -- we did it in our suite, in our cabana, and even on the beach. The man was simply insatiable, when it came to sex and when it came to food. I knew he loved me more, but sometimes I had to wonder if he maybe loved all the food just a bit more. But it became clearer and clearer while we were there that he was gaining for me. And Pam was his inspiration, as she ate as much as she could every day to get fatter and fatter for her lover, who wasn't even her husband. He apparently wanted her to get to 800 pounds and she was willing to do it because she loved him so unconditionally. And by the time my husband left the program, Pam had reached and exceeded that goal, becoming a nearly round woman in the process.

I felt guilty at least a little bit because he was willing to sacrifice his once sort of in shape body for me. But as he continued to gain, often at a breakneck pace, my love and my lust for him grew as immeasurably as his waistline. I just loved his new body without any apparent hint of muscle tone and blubbery bulges everywhere on a man who was now bigger around than he was tall!

And I was so proud when I picked him up from Hungry Hubby on his last day. Dora, the center's director, had him standing naked in front of the 1,200 pound capacity scale, ready to measure his progress and the center's compliance with the two pound a day weight gain guarantee. Turns out he blew the goal away! Whereas he had weighed in at 515 pounds before our Hawaii trip, twelve more weeks at the center had added 230 more pounds to his 5'9" frame, an average of more than three pounds a day! That meant my big blubbery hippo of a hubby weighed an incredible 745 pounds!

He had told me that Pam predicted on his first day that he could leave the program at 700 pounds, which was probably a hundred pounds greater than even his wildest gaining dream. And now he blew past that "stretch" goal by 45 pounds! The man was simply amazing in his capacity to eat and gain.

And it shows, believe me it shows, on his massively sexy body. Just see what six months at the center has done for him. I have never seen a man as fatter than him and I doubt you have either unless you happened to see Robert Earl Hughes in his prime.

Standing as he was before the sturdy scale, his guargantuan belly hung at least a couple of inches below his knees; a veritable cascade of corpulence; a landslide in slow motion; a luscious, undulating landscape of unprecedented beauty, furrowed with stretchmarks, irrigated with rivulets of sweat (after all, it's hard work lugging around almost three-eighths of a ton of blubber like does).

Borne atop his massive belly, rising and falling with every breath he took, were two bulging sacks of flesh that I could only loosely term as breasts; they sagged precariously under their considerable weight to a point only a few inches above his belly button.

And finally, as he awaited stepping on the scale and the wild applause from his fellow students and the center staff that ensued, I caught a view of him from the back. move around them all to admire the view from behind. His back is a concertinaed mass of roll upon engorged roll, culminating in the gelatinous orbs of his rear end. He had always had a relatively flat ass, but his gain of almost 400 pounds had created twin planetory bodies that were in perpetual collision, quivering like massive bowls of jelly with each step he took. And then there were his legs, which had always been rather slender compared to the rest of him. But now, each thigh was at least as big around as my waist, his once smooth skin now dimpled -- and fascinating -- like the surface of a lake on a rainy day.

It was all too much for my libido and I was ready to mount and ride his enormous body right there. But the applause from his fellow feedees and the friendly staff of feeders, applause for him obliterating his gaining goal, brought me back to reality and I instead walked up beside him and wrapped my arm around his love handles, reaching perhaps a quarter of the way around his massive waist.

I leaned over and gave him a big kiss on his fat cheek and decided I'd just have to wait for the center's Maybach to take us home to show my Tubby Hubby just how proud I was of him.

And one more thing ... I don't think he will be going back to accounting after this -- his new profession is eating! And he is the consummate professional at that. I expect that belly of his to be touching his ankles within the year.


fat hiker

Oct 25, 2005
Ottawa, ON
I just noticed that this story references, and adapts text from, another story, Ten Years, which I should look up. I do LOVE the description of him at the end of the six month fattening program, which is credited to the other story.

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