BBW Jessica Steps Up (SSBBW, ~WG, Stuffing, ~Sex)

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Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
A Texan woman decides to get real with her inner desires and let loose with the help of her boyfriend. Dedicated to the magnificent BBW weight gain authors such as BBW Betsy and The Studio from Dimensions Magazine's Weight Room.

Jessica Steps Up
By Aster

Jessica had climaxed for the second time that night on top of me, with short, ecstatic breaths leaving her lips. I could feel her legs weakening, and at 290 pounds I could feel more and more of her soft pooch of a belly coming down to meet my own body. She slammed her hands outside of my shoulders to catch herself, closed her eyes and gave a joyful moan.

She rolled off and smiled at me, leaving the blankets at the foot off the King-sized bed. Jessica and I were both big Texans – she stood at a clean 6 feet, and myself at 6’3”, but Jessica was big in the way I loved. She was an hourglass shape, with wide shoulders that held vast breasts that almost defied gravity. She said she came from a “big gal” family, but at a 40G bra size that was a bit of an understatement. Her stomach was a soft ball of fat with an appetite that surprised me some evenings. 50 inch hips gave me plenty to hang on to, with powerful pillars of legs that were crafted from a youth spent doing constant chores on a family cattle ranch.

“Happy anniversary,” I told her. It was two years since she walked into a coffee shop I was in and I took a gamble by talking to her. She was almost 50 pounds lighter then, with raven black hair that went down to the mid-way of her back.

Jessica’s weight gain was the unspoken elephant in the room in our relationship. Early on she asked me if I minded big girls and I sternly said “Not at all.” That was the beginning and end of the conversation, besides a few remarks from her on when a pair of pants shrunk in the wash, or when a blouse would ride up on her. Our sex life spoke a different tune, however. Over the last year alone she had put on over 30 pounds of the 50 total she had accumulated. All her wardrobe malfunctions drove me wild, and a long night of love-making was a foregone conclusion if she stuffed herself from a restaurant date. I loved every pound she gained, but I never thought to outwardly tell her that beyond general compliments and dirty talk.

Jessica moved her eyes downward and cradled her belly. “You know what I love to read when you’re asleep?” She asked. I shook my head.

She smirked and moved her fingers to her areola. “I turn on my tablet and read erotica. Like, three or four stories a night if I can find the right ones, but it’s getting harder these days to find what I want.”

A silence held, and then I asked, “What do… you normally want?”

Jessica squeezed her breasts toward her, hiding the bottom half of her face. “Oh man, real degenerate stuff, Ted. Just the worst.” There was a devilish glint in her eyes.

My heart ran in triple-time. “Can’t be that bad. What’s your poison?”

She let her breasts go and patted her outstretched belly, sending ripples inches outward. “Women, Ted. Big, Beautiful, Women. Women who eat what they want, when they want, and get as big as they want. Women who get turned on by engorging themselves until they bust out of their clothes and then ask for seconds. I’m talking about women who get so fat that they destroy door frames and wearing pants become a fantasy.”

She let her words hang in the space between us. She then scootched herself toward me, her belly pushing up against my own hard abdomen. My dick rose in painful attention and I realized my mouth was dry.

We talked for an hour that night, getting it all out in the open. She had been “testing the waters” with her recent weight gain, waiting for me to make the first move. She said she realized I must had been afraid of hurting her even though it was clearly turning me on. She got tired of waiting when she knew we could both “take this to the next level” and pointed at her own naked body.

“I’m 26, I’m from a big healthy family, and I’m strong, baby!” She squeezed her bicep for an example, and while she was right, it reminded me of filling up a marshmallow with air.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I’ve wanted it for years. I just needed to wait for the right person. You’re the first guy I knew wouldn’t run for the hills.” She rubbed her hand across my chest hair. “Plus you’re a real cutie.”

“Well good to know,” I said. “Because I’ve had some fantasies too, so you better wake up with an appetite.”

She pulled the covers up and squealed in delight. “Oh my god, I’m going to be such pig. I’m going to get so fat!”


Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
We started in earnest in the morning of March 20th. The first thing she did was weigh herself; it would soon become her morning ritual with her marking her journey at 292 pounds. She wanted to be above 300 by April 1st. I told her that may have been a bit ambitious, but she wasn’t having it. She put on her satin blue bathroom and sat expectedly at our counter.

Breakfast was a cavalcade of pancakes, toast, bacon, and cereal. She was a bit miffed we were out of eggs, but said she’d pick some up while grocery shopping today. We were pretty well stocked, but I nodded and added more batter to the skillet. Forty minutes later we were out of just about every breakfast food except the bread.

Jessica leaned back and undid her robe, rubbing a stomach that had been barraged by carbs. The morning’s light shown down on her from our kitchen windows, and I could scarcely recall the last time I had seen her so content. She looked up at me and told me I shouldn’t be “late for work.”

“Work” was an inside joke for us. Before moving back down to Texas to be with friends and family, I was a silicon valley redneck, working on the next big app to make it big. After three years of trying, my friends and I had finally hit it big with an all-in-one social media watchdog service for restaurants. It would automatically post menu changes, take online orders, and alert owners about incoming reviews, good or bad. It could even sense “food trends” and advise owners to ride the bandwagon. We sold the software off to another food review company, and I came back to town a quiet millionaire. I still kept an internet consulting business in town, but it was mostly a side business I could set my own hours for.

That morning’s breakfast set a pace for the next week and a half, where every meal was a challenge to go a few steps further than the last. One extra serving of lasagna, a third go at the mashed potatoes for dinner, and a pint of ice cream before bed. While I was always there to cheer her on every meal, I made sure to never pressure her beyond her own comfort. It wasn’t a race, and we were both learning about her limits.

Or so I thought.

The first day of April could have been Christmas Day for Jessica if you saw her dart out of bed as quickly as I did. She had kept her records locked away on her phone’s notepad, and wanted her first landmark to be a surprise for me. I was still in bed checking some messages when I heard her yelp.

“303!” She said from the adjacent bathroom.

I whistled. “That’s almost a pound a day, dear.” She started to get dressed and told me she had passed the big three-hundred four days ago, but wanted to see how far she could take it. I asked her how she felt.

“Amazing,” she said as she negotiated her jean’s buttons into place. Those size 54 pants were getting to be a snug fit these days. She reached into her bra drawer and continued. “I want to celebrate tonight.”

“Any plans in mind?”

“Chello’s Buffet. It’s a seafood night, and I’m in the mood.” She shimmied her tits into a beige bra that was stretched near taught under its poundage.

“Oh yeah?” Chello’s Buffet was a rare event in our house. Before Jessica’s admission, she would play coy about her appetite when we went out to eat. She would say she only wanted one thing, but would also insist on an appetizer, maybe two, and then an extra side, and desert since we were already out. There would be no need to play such games at Chello’s. “Sounds good,” I said.

I washed up after work and drove us both up the interstate to Chello’s. She was wearing a v-neck yellow blouse that just about covered the newfound gains in her waist. She seemed distant on the ride there, looking out the window and barely saying a word until we parked.

The waitress smartly put at us at a table instead of a booth. I could barely get a drink order out before Jessica went off to the four aisles of food that awaited her.

She started off with four heaping cups of Boston clam chowder to warm up, stacking each emptied bowl like a leaning tower of Pisa to her right. Then she got to real work. She started with three “sampler” plates to decide what she liked and would ask me to get a full plate of two things that she favored: Fried shrimp and walnut chicken, hush puppies and artificial crab meat smothered in melted butter, mashed potatoes and crawdads, and so on. All the while she’d mentioned how much she loved the food, but I think she loved the moment even more. It was our first dinner date, unrestrained and in full cooperation.

An hour passed, and our table was awash in plates covered in sauces and crumbs. Jessica was starting to lean back some, and then twisted herself a bit to point out at the fresh prime rib that just got laid out. I heard a small pop, and so did Jessica. Her eyes jolted open.

“Oh shit.”


She inhaled. “My pants. They just ripped.”

“Just now?” I looked under the table, and it was true. The seams on the right side of her pants had split open a full inch. Her own pearly-white fat was muffin-topping out of it, almost like it was coming up for air. Her waistband was also fighting a losing battle against the lower half of her stomach, the upper half pushing up her blouse and riding her pants like a wave.

“How long have we been here?” she asked.

“Little over an hour.”

“Jesus,” she smirked. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“You wanna go?”

I could see she was considering it. Probably also considering staying. Maybe eating every plate she could until closing time. She looked down and finally realized how much of her own belly was poking out of her blouse.

She rubbed her distended stomach. “One more plate,” she said. “Five thick slices of that prime rib, with asparagus tips, grilled shrimp, and two scoops of mashed potatoes. Then we can go.”

It took her a half hour to finish that plate, but she did. She gave a pained look on her face and I helped her to the car.

“That was wonderful,” she said.

“Want me to stop somewhere for desert?”

She burped and smiled. “Don’t tempt me.” Jess leaned back in triumph. She told me she felt like a real BBW now, but wouldn’t rest until she was a “super-sized” BBW. Jess didn’t tell me what counted as super-sized in her mind, but I knew she’d enjoy every moment getting there.

Three months had passed and Jessica texted me a message at work.

-When are you coming home?

-Around 5. Everything ok?

-Yeah. I’d like to run an idea by you.

I found Jessica on the couch of our home, munching on a value bag’s worth of pizza rolls. While she hadn’t taken up another moment of gluttony like at Chello’s, Jess was no slouch when it came to her new diet. Her meals were slowly getting bigger every day, and so was she.

JUNE At 367 pounds, Jess was really filling out. Her 50” bust was barely contained in her floral blouse, and her belly was easily taking up half her lap, which had spread out to take one and half of our couch cushions. Even her lips had filled up to give her face a constant semi-pout. Natural collagen, she called it.

“What’s up, dear?”

She broke away from her trance and smiled. “Why don’t you go and change out of your work clothes, first? I’ll finish my snack and we can talk. She patted her plate of pizza rolls, of which there were about two dozen left.

I did so, and when I came back, I saw Jess had emptied her plate in the few minutes I was gone. She patted the empty half of the cushion beside her.

I sat down and I wrapped my arms around her, rubbing her belly. I loved how her body sunk into the firmness of my arms. “So what’s this idea you’ve been teasing?”

“Have you heard of social eating?”

I told her I knew what the words meant separately, but otherwise no.

“It’s something people do on live streaming services. Some people play video games, some do art, and others… well, they eat.”

I’d heard of the former, but not the latter. “And people watch that?”

She chortled. “Well, yeah! You certainly do, so why not others? Some watch because it’s sexual for them, but others just do it because it’s relaxing.” She explained how she had subscribed to a few streams herself for months, even before her big “confession.” She said she wanted to give it a shot and see if people would be interested. She could even take donations and make a side income from it.

“If you’re worried about money…”

She waved me away. “Oh Ted, I know you make good money. You don’t even need that consulting job you do. But I’d feel better if my habits could offset the grocery bill every month.”

We talked about it for a while, but in the end I could tell she was too excited for the idea for me to be a wet blanket. I pulled out a laptop and started buying the necessary equipment beside her. Just as I clicked the checkout button, a familiar ding came from the kitchen.

“Ohhh, the London broil’s ready! Just in the knick of time, too.” She patted her tummy. “I’m starving.”



Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
Jessica moved into her streaming channel with vigor. Her own research got her off to a fast start. It didn’t hurt that this project featured one of her favorite activities! Where other streamers would eat a unique bowl of ramen and call it a day, her own streams would go on for hours of late-night several-course setup of snacks and meals. The dining room was her studio, with three cameras put up so people could see the whole table, Jessica in profile on another screen, and Jessica facing forward on the third one.

Things were slow-going the first few weeks. However, word of mouth spread as she built up a repartee with friendly and not-so-friendly viewers in her chat. She was a curiosity to some and a freak show to others, but viewers were viewers, she said. She liked to create themes on her streams, like pizza coupon night, where she would eat three large pizzas with three toppings each. Other days it was holiday themed, or food of all the same color. As her viewer count went up, so did her weight.

By September, she was 405 pounds. It was midnight, and Jessica came through the bedroom door frame, her jeans fully unbuttoned and her right hip brushing against the door frame.

She started unfastening the hooks along her back, clearly in discomfort. “Oh my god, so full. So effing full.” She threw her shirt off into the hamper, bra included. She lifted up her belly and let it rest on her side of the bed while she navigated her pants off of her. While standing, her stomach rested a comfortable forearm’s length across the bed. She would bend over to make her belly cover more of the bed, knowing it drove me wild.

“Rough night?”

“I ate both buckets.” She meant the fried chicken super family buckets I bought for her earlier in the day, as well as a healthy collection of sides such as mashed potatoes, green beans, rice, corn, and a half dozen biscuits. Each bucket had 12 pieces of extra crispy chicken, just the way she liked it.

“I thought you’d save a bucket for lunch tomorrow.”

Jessica finally popped the jeans over the expanse of her ass, which looked like two boulders swaying behind her head. “So did I, but I mentioned it on the stream and too many people dared me. Plus, someone dared me with $100, so that’s nice.”

“Well, that is nice, but I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable.”

She grabbed the band of her underwear and looked at me. “Uncomfortable? Baby, if you knew how I felt right now you’d know that’s the name of the game.” She rested her free arm on the bed as she moved her panties down her legs. “It’s the sexiest feeling in the world. In fact,” she moved her hand under tits, manipulating nipples that were buried between the bed and her fat. “I’m going to need new clothes soon. Pretty sure my nips were poking out at the end there, and that’s a no-no on the public streams.”

I laughed. “You’re terrible.”

She slapped her ass and swayed her hips, her upper body spreading out on our bed. “Come over here and I’ll show you just how terrible I am.”


“Well, I’ve been suspended.”

“What?” I put down the morning paper and looked up at Jess. She had finished breakfast a while ago and was checking messages on her phone. In front of her was the remnants of a dozen pieces of toast, the greasy remains of a pack of bacon, and an empty mixing bowl that she ate her oatmeal out of.

“Yep. Pretty dumb of me too.” She showed me the incriminating video. It was one of her social eating shows from the weekend. I remembered that before the stream we shared an eight course Chinese take out. She wanted to plow through a dozen double chocolate gourmet cupcakes on her show that night, but half way through she undid her bra to ease up on some pressure. Even though she did it off camera, the outline of Jess’s aerola and nipples could clearly be seen through the strained XXL t-shirt she was wearing.

“This sucks! Just broke 20,000 followers and I was making $300 a week on those streams, and now I won’t be able to get back on for a month!”

I rubbed my chin. “I don’t think you need to wait that long.”

Jess looked up from her phone. “How? The appeals process is terrible.”

“Let’s work on making your own site. Build up your own paywall structure and a less stingy streaming provider. Make it easier for people to find you with better SEO strategies.”

“Who’s going to do all that? You?”

I smiled. “I’ve been looking for a new project to fill up my time.”

She hustled over to me and enveloped me in her softness. “Ohhhh! You’re too sweet!”

I had to admit my motives were a little more than mere altruism. Jessica loved her gluttonous lifestyle, but when it was her job, she took it up to 11. In the two months since she started her channel, she was going up in clothing sizes every two weeks. Now in mid-November, she was tipping the scales at 487 pounds and counting.

It took about 16 days to get everything up in running, and Jess became like one of my clients when I was just starting out in consulting. She was constantly trying to not only make her livestreams better, but expand the kind of content she put out. She wanted to schedule live video gaming sessions, premium streams for paid subscribers, a blogging section, and even vanity photos.

The last one took me by surprise, but she said she loved to see BBW bloggers record their journeys into weight gain and look sexy doing it. She called on an old college friend named Carmen to help her with that part. She was a freelance photographer, and as a chubby redhead, was more than open to help a fellow fat chick. Once she heard what her monthly retainer would be, she said we could have her for life.

Three months later, Jessica had carved out a healthy niche in the BBW admirer community. She had an attractive balance of free material and premium content for her fans. She was making enough money that becoming a legit LLC was a smart tax move, and it was being used well.

As I predicted, Jessica was expanding with her business, and was now a lovely 557 pounds. Jess said her body was her greatest asset, and took strides to take care of it. She had taken up weight lifting and swimming in our backyard pool to keep up with her new poundage, and most days she had more energy than me. Especially at night! She had also invested in a variety of skin and stretch mark creams to keep up a smooth, healthy glow about her. She also kept up regular visits to the salon to manage her ironed-smooth black hair, which went down to the top of her butt when she let it down.

And what an ass it was. While sitting on the couch, it spread out enough to place drinks on it, but still firm enough to bounce quarters. In fact, most of her body had grown to the point that Jess could rest food on it. When I walked in the house that afternoon, I saw seven wrapped chipotle burritos resting on her massive cleavage, with one tucked in at the end of her cleavage to stop the rest from rolling off.

Of course, she wouldn’t have needed that extra burrito if she just pushed her stomach up with her legs. Her belly had taken on the lion’s share of her new weight, sticking out a solid 18 inches while standing. Even with her legs spread, it spread and sat beside her knees, ready to dive off into further gluttony.

When she noticed me on her third burrito she said, “Oh! Dear, I have wonderful news, but I –” she pursed her lips. “But I can’t tell you yet.”

I put down my suitcase and slid beside. “And why’s that?”

She scarfed down the last bite of her burrito. “We have to celebrate first.”


Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
For Jessica, celebration meant one thing, and it was being delivered every fifteen minutes that evening. Extra large pizzas from all her favorite places were being delivered to our house, with plenty of sides and salads that she snacked on while waiting for them all to arrive. There were 10 pies in total, all stacked with meat toppings.

That night, she and I brought the pizzas into our bedroom, and she started positioning herself into a comfortable lean with our six oversized velvet pillows. I noticed she hadn’t taken her pants, and her blouse was tightly tucked in.

“You wanna know my secret, you gotta get me fat and happy, big fella.” She winked and rested her head against her interlocking fingers.

I had fed her a few spoonfuls of ice cream on movie nights, but I had never done a full feeding session with Jessica before. I suppose I was a bit gunshy, and I didn’t know how I’d like it. Just watching her eat was enough to get me turned on.

I knelt beside her on the bed, the pizza boxes beside me. Every slice I fed her made her give a soft moan, like she was given manna from heaven. By the second pie, she asked me to stack the slices, and by the third pie, I had stacked the boxes on her stomach to make the journey to her mouth a little quicker.

She got a kick out of that. “No you silly goose, it goes inside the tummy, not on top!”

By the eighth pie I could see her slowly squirming, with clear discomfort showing on her face. She bade me to keep going. On the ninth pie it finally happened.

When the two buttons broke of her pants it sounded like a spent shell coming out of a rifle. Her belly surged forward and outward, pushing down the zipper and covering the fabric of her pants. Her blouse zipped up like blinds to hide under her shelf of tit.

“Oh my god, finally!” She rubbed her belly in satisfaction. “Well come on, we don’t have all night!”

She ate the remainder of her late dinner with a newfound vigor, and I swear I could see her stomach rising like dough. I congratulated her on her last slice, rubbing the portion of her belly what was kissing my thigh.

She smacked her lips and smiled. “Not done yet, bucko! There’s a cake in the fridge, and could you get me a 2 liter of coke? All those carbs makes a girl thirsty.”

The cake spoiled the surprise, but maybe that was the point. It was a two-layered chocolate coconut cake a foot in diameter, and written in cursive it stated: 10,000 PAID SUBSCRIBERS

By the time I got back to Jess she was already topless, shedding her blouse and bra to get comfortable. She was rubbing her belly, with a quizzical look, almost as if she was as surprised as anyone by what she had consumed. She looked back at me.

“Just put the cake on my tummy, honey.”

She spread six napkins across her chest and didn’t bother with slices. With fork in hand, she greedily gulped down desert while telling me the news.

“Carmen got me the cake. She knew 10,000 was my starting goal. *Gulp* That’s $60,000 a month we’re pulling in, honey. I mean, jeez, even with expenses and food, that’s a ton.” She giggled.

“Jesus, that’s amazing, dear.”

She placed her fork on her breasts and pushed back her hair. “Thanks so much for setting all this up for me. I know I say that a lot, but I mean it.” A small burp escaped from her. It was almost comical, given what she had eaten. “I love you.”

I jumped at her, tasting the chocolate on her lips as her tongue tried to wrap itself around mine. She pushed me away as I started tugging on her nips. She tut-tutted me and picked up where she left off on her cake. She washed it all down with her coke in two minutes.

She handed me the spent 2-liter. “Mmmmm I feel a bit bad for you.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well first, you need to get some scissors to cut these pants off, because I am not getting out of bed tonight. And second…”

She smacked her belly, and it responded with a drum-tight thwong. It swayed as a single entity. “You have to lift this little ol’ thing to make love to me tonight.”


A few months later, Jess’s growing fan base had made every desire and whim inside her a reality, and this included some overdue home renovations.

In the living room, all of the furniture had either been replaced or re-furnished with stronger materials, as the couch had been making a noticeable dip whenever Jessica sat down with her handfuls of snacks. A standard Laz-Z-Boy seat could no longer comfortably contain the manifest destiny of her ass, and a velvet leather recliner that was closer to a love seat was placed in its stead.

Other new items included a refrigerator that had two extra feet of depth, a second toaster oven, and an extra large fryer installed into the wall (she loved trying new recipes on it). Re-enforced chairs populated our breakfast nook and elsewhere. The backs of them had joints that allowed Jessica to lean back after a particularly gluttonous meal and massage her belly.

And what a belly it was growing to be! Jessica loved the feeling of being full to the extreme, but most of the day it was a fat, happy apron that had a deep fold across her belly button ling. I’d joke to Jess how it was an attention diva, as I’d see a foot of it enter the bedroom before her breasts and face did.

As Jess’ body grew, her personality and “prestige” grew with it. There was almost a commanding aura emanating from her, pulling glances from public onlookers and hypnotizing me while simply talking to her.

One example happened over the weekend during laundry time. I was carrying a basket full of freshly iron shirts and linens down the hall when I saw Jess coming my way. She had been spending her early Saturday afternoon answering emails while going through an entire meat and cheese party platter, but had gotten up to use the bathroom at the end of the hall. She was only wearing her black bra and some basketball shorts, as per her tradition on laundry day. We met in the middle of the hall, and it was then I realized I could no longer easily get around my girlfriend.

Without the basket, going around her wouldn’t be any ordeal, but at Jess’s size it was never going to be easy. I lifted the basket above my head, but as I tried to negotiated around her left, she tapped her ass cheek to the wall with a light hip jostle. Her ass undulated horizontally, almost daring me to get past her.

She smiled and took a few steps forward, the framed pictures doing their normal dance as she walked by. Her belly kissed my crouch and then my abdomen as she pressed forward. She reached out with her right hand and guided me to the wall, where she pressed my body against while she started to strafe across me. With the basket above my head, I was pinned. I was half a head taller than her, but I felt compelled to let her move as she pleased over me.

As I felt the tops of her breasts slid across my collar bone, my beloved leaned in and kissed my dumbstruck face. She pulled back and smiled, basking in her sexual dominance.

“Thanks, lover,” she said as she carried on across the hall.

Later that same day I was compelled to do two things. One was make love to her on our bed. The other was to measure her progress.

She was 587 pounds of powerful femininity. The tape measurer put her thighs at 40 inches. Her bust had expanded to 80 inches, waist to 102, and her hips sat at 110.

Jess grabbed her stomach. “You’re saying I got over a hundred inches over here?” The gears ran in her mind. “One sec.”

She hustled over to her laptop, and five minutes later our printer was printing out some forms.

“There’s a BBQ convention that started an eating competition at one of its events last year. First prize is $15,000 and a year’s supply of Tallahassee Sally’s BBQ sauce.”

“And you’re applying for it now?”

She closed her laptop and placed her appetizer platter on her belly. “I promised myself I’d do it if I could get this bad boy over 100 inches.” She rubbed her belly with a sense of accomplishment.

“Why a hundred inches?”

She stacked seven thick slices of pepperjack between some salami as thick as my thumb and consumed it all in a matter of seconds. “I don’t know. I’ve never done an eating competition before, and I thought having the extra room would be good insurance.”

“Do you know how those competitions work?”

She looked up at the ceiling and thought for a second. “They switch it up every year. All I know is that you gotta eat an ungodly amount of food under a strict time limit. Real serious stuff.” She tilted the tray to spilled the rest of the meats and cheeses onto her tits, where she slowly began to lean back and shovel them into her mouth.

“That form that just printed out says the competition is in five weeks. Do you think you’ll be ready by then?”

She laid her empty tray on top of her laptop and began to lick her fingers. Just then, a familiar roiling gurgle was heard from her belly. The top fold even vibrated a bit from the noise. Jessica was still a bit peckish, it seemed.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Wanna help me train?”


(If I'm formatting something wrong or breaking some forum rules, please forgive me. I read the rules, but I'm new posting here. This story is fully written, and I plan to release a chapter a day, but like everyone here, feedback is appreciated.)


Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
I thought “training” for Jess was a bit of a joke, but the next morning she had proven me wrong. While I thought the next few weeks would give Jess an excuse to pig out a little more than usual, she had a different goal in mind: Expand her capacity as much as possible.

She had apparently been researching for this kind of event for some time. Instead of increasing her overall food intake, she eased up on snacking and revolved her training over one large lunch. She still had lunch and dinner, but they seemed almost normal compared to what she was consuming a month before.

According to her research, it was best to start out training by maxing out stomach capacity once per day, preferably in the afternoon. This way she would burn off the calories during the day and not interrupt her sleep schedule. She also incorporated two sessions of weight training and even started using a treadmill to build up her stamina.

If it wasn’t for what happened at noon, you’d almost think she was training for an actual athletic competition. As soon as her phone’s alarm rang out, she’d amble to the kitchen to heat up that day’s training meal. A typical meal would be a combination of carbs, fats, and protein. By the end of the week she was able to eat 10 tacos, 8 double-whoppers, 4 fish sandwiches, and 3 double-meat foot long subs in an hour and a half. She would then collapse on the couch and rub her belly with oils to recover.

Weeks 2 and 3 had her upping “meal training” to twice per day, with the goal of eating as much as possible in under an hour. Snacking and a third meal didn’t happen over this week, which made her understandably grumpy. However, she was happy to incorporate her 6:30pm meal training session in her stream time. These streaming sessions were some of her most popular, and a betting ecosystem was growing out of them. Some viewers would bet amongst themselves, and others would lock in a bet with Jess herself to finish off her mountain of food in 50 minutes, or to finish things off with a nice sundae. She’d play up her anguish with these bets, but toward the end of week 3, I don’t think there was a lot of acting involved.

With week 5, she was back to three meals a day. She would eat until she was “full” for breakfast and lunch, and dinner had her eating until she was almost screaming under her groans. During one dinner, she had downed a cauldron of gumbo with five sticks of French bread, six small de-boned chicken rotisseries, and three 1-liter bottles of various sodas. I later learned that a lot of competitors used a trio of different drinks to stop taste-bud fatigue and allow them to keep eating a truckload of the same food.

After she finished her gumbo meal, Jess was quite a sight. Her face was tomato red with anguish, with the rest of her body different shades of pink. She was leaned back at a 30-degree angle, eyes closed, and quietly waiting for the protesting sounds of her stomach to die down. After ten minutes, her body had finally quieted down and she put her hands out – her quiet signal for me to help her up.

The simple trek from the dining room to the kitchen had Jess walking like the floor was laced with mines. While her body had trouble keeping up with the new diet, Jess still had an ass and tits that loved to jiggle and jostle when they weren’t restrained.

And these past couple of weeks they certainly weren’t. Jess essentially was wearing the big girl version of a belly shirt and skirt most days, sans underwear. Whenever I saw her walking around the house, she was a sight. She wore her button-up skirts underneath her belly and loose, and this lead to her showing off over thirty pounds of ass that bounced around. No skirt could contain Jess’s ass for long, and as the weeks rode on, the bottom of her ass started peaking out of the bottom of her shirt’s curtain.

Some days it felt like Jess’s breasts were expanding in real time, but in reality her growing stomach was pushing them further away and outward from her body. I would re-adjust her breasts whenever I passed by her, which often lead to a quickie before her next meal.

During her last few days of training, she was guzzling gallons of water just to stretch every square inch of her stomach to the max. One evening I came home and called out to Jess. A burp emanated from the living room.

The first thing I saw wasn’t my girlfriend, but four empty water jugs on the floor. In Jess’s hand was a fifth, down to its last pint of hydration as it swirled down into her mouth.

“Ahhh” she said and tossed the jug to its family. Jess was enormous. At first I thought she was nude, but I saw a few scant inches of purple fabric beside her right hip. Her belly was foldless, like an enlarged end of a giant baseball bat that was dense with water and her day’s gluttony. While it still stopped at around her knees, it made room these past few weeks in height and breadth, covering her tree trunk thighs. Her hands laid down on her sides at a slight angle, playing with the three folds along her torso. Her eyes were closed and she paced out her breathing, building up to larger breaths. Jess had made peace with the uncomfortable nature of her training and had accepted even the pain as another step toward her goal. She was like the Buddha reincarnated in an obese Texan gal.

When she opened her eyes, she finally saw me in the door frame and chuckled. “Spying on me?”

“You’re pretty hard to miss.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, mister. Now be a dear and oil me up. Mama needs to relax.” She knit her fingers together and laid her head back on the foot of the couch cushions. I noticed the bio-oil was on the last couch cushion segment, but it was clear Jess wasn’t in any condition to get it.

As I lathered up my hands with the oil, I thought to how I wish Jess had asked me to do this for her months ago. Jess had an independent streak in her though, and always told me she could do it herself. Around her fourth week of training, even Jess had to admit she was having trouble reaching the tip of her belly, especially while sitting down. Finally she relented and grew to enjoy being pampered. I loved to experience the ever-changing geography of her body, the shifting layers of blubber and denseness of this growing tummy she had built.

I started along her sides, gingerly testing how far my fingers could go in before splaying them outward.

“Mmmph, gentle please. Oh, that’s nice. That’s so warm, spread it all over.”

“You know, when I’m on my knees, I can’t even see your face from down here.”

“Sorry you’re deprived of my cute, chubby little face. We all have to make sacrifices.”

“It’s okay. I just put up with you for your body anyway.”

Jess snorted and gave a small moan. “Oh you big pig.”

“Look who’s talking, fatty.” I moved to the front of her belly, which often was the tightest part of her at the end of the day. In a way it was almost like getting out a muscle knot; I laid the flat of my palms on her and applied small but solid pressure outward.

“I am a little piggy,” she started to inhale with the pain. “God I’m so fucking full oh fuck.”

It was only until it was right under my nose did I see it. It stopped my massage right in its tracks.

“Fuller than you know.”


“Your belly button. It’s an outie.”

“What?!” She curved her head up and over her mountain of flesh. “Are you for real?”

I ran my fingers across the tip. It was like a fat little Christmas light. “What did you eat today?”

“Get the camera. I wanna see.”

Once she got a hold of some digital copies, Jess forgot all about her aches and pains, and set up an impromptu photo shoot. We shot her from every angle, and I even managed to get her to put a shirt on for her social media outlets. Jess’s favorite shot was taken from my kneeling angle, her jokey face licking her lips over her stomach and giving a thumbs up. She paired up the photo with some text that said READY FOR TALLAHASSE SALLY’S CONVENTION!!!

Jess woke up on the day of the convention like a kid on Christmas. She locked herself in the bathroom while I laid out her clothes. She picked out a yellow summer dress and a white dress belt (it was almost as wide as her weight lifting belt, but I kept quiet). Both were custom ordered. When I asked her asked her about the belt the night before, she said it was for walking around the convention; she wanted to be fashionable before the afternoon contest.

I spent my time making breakfast in the kitchen while Jess was getting ready. When she did finally make an appearance, she looked fit for a picnic. Her black hair was tied back in bushy braided ponytail and her face had enough foundation to give her face a rosy complexion to compliment her dress. The outfit was let out enough to keep her modest and hung down to her knees. Surprisingly, her feet were muffin-topped into some ivory mary jane heels. She loved how heels accented her booty, and they never seemed to slow her down.

She tugged on my shirt and pouted. “Come oooon! I’m wasting away here!”

Jess was trying to joke, but she had been partially fasting during her last two days of training. She had limited herself to a “mere” 3,000 calories to build up a hunger and it was quickly driving her insane.

“You want me to throw away this whole bag of bacon I’m making?”

She tapped her lips. “Yes. No. Um, put it in a bag, I’ll eat it on the way there. Meet me in the car when you’re done!” She rushed out the front door.
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Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
The convention floor was half business exhibition for wholesale food suppliers and half fan meet up. Each stand was sizzling and simmering with free samples from cooking competitors and local restaurants, hoping to sway judges and network with each. We had a few hours to kill before her competition: a hamburger eating contest that was based most eaten in a 30-minute period. Carmen would meet us there to take pictures and record her event. I convinced them not to make it a live event; this was Jess’s first time and I didn’t want her to disappoint herself or her fans if she didn’t place.

We walked around the stands, “window shopping” and taking business cards from friendly sellers. Jess put herself out as a food vlogger, which wasn’t necessarily a lie, and many vendors asked if she could review some free samples on her site. One seller’s shocked expression revealed him as a fan, but both he and Jess left it unsaid. He instead handed her a free double-stacked pork sandwich and gave her a wink.

She was halfway through the sandwich by the time I voiced my concern. “I’d slow down. Your contest is in an hour.”

“Oh yes, Ted. This one sandwich will surely be the end of me.”

“It’s not just the sandwich. You’ve been ‘sampling’ food since we got here.”

She opened up the buns and poured the shredded pork into her mouth. When she finished, Jess said, “The record for this event is eight 1/3 pounder burgers. That’s dinner for me. Look.” She made a fist and pushed it deeply into her belly. “Besides, it’s important to warm up before your event.”

I wondered why she trained so hard for an event she felt so confident about, but I left it alone. A few minutes later I got a phone call from an old business partner looking for advice, so I stepped outside.

When I re-entered the convention, the intercom was announcing a ten minute warning for the burger competition, and when I passed by the lobby food court I found Jess. She was munching away on a foot-long BLT with all the trimmings.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, the competition is right down the hall. We have plenty of time.”

“I mean eating that!” I pointed to sub, halfway gone.

“Well, I didn’t want to abuse free sample privileges, so I figured I’d get a bite at the food court.” She cocked an eye brow. She knew she was being ‘bad’ but didn’t seem to care.

I grabbed the sandwich from her hand. “Come on!”

The five contestants were seated at a long table on a panel stage, with seats for about fifty people in the audience. In front of the contestants were a wall of fifteen burgers, each one decorated with red onions, lettuce, and tomato slices. Each contestant was different: three men, two women including Jess, and most were fairly young, like college students who were doing this for a dare or free meal. None of them were even half Jess’s size. However, I reminded myself that a lot of these competitive eaters on TV looked skinny; these things were more about speed and skill than just gluttony.

The judge explained the time limit and the rules of the event, and when each contestant noted they were ready, a trade show girl fired off a pop gun, and the clock had started.

The male contestants started off like maniacs, eating like they were freed from captivity. The other woman took downright small and slow bites, almost like she was on her lunch break. Jess, on the other hand, wasn’t eating at all.

She had taken her burgers off their stacks and was disassembling them. She was putting the vegetables into their own groups and stacking the burger patties into two towers. For the buns, she took them in fours and smashed them into little balls.

After ten minutes, one guy had quit at three burgers, while the other two were holding strong at about four each. The woman had eaten about two. Jess had only just started eating her vegetables, and was technically at zero.

At the 25 minute mark, another guy stopped at six burgers, the last man had finished his seventh, but was clearly struggling to continue. He was gulping water with every bite. The woman had made a surprising come back with her slow and steady method and was gaining fast on her fifth burger. Jess had been taking her time as well, but was demolishing her first tower of beef.

There was less than 10 minutes to go. The last guy tapped out before he could finish his last burger, and the other woman started quickening her own pace, chomping away at her own burger. I looked back at Jess and realized she had stopped eating. All the meat and vegetables on her tray was gone, and all that was left was four handmade loaves of bread from the buns.

I couldn’t believe it. Was she already full? Did she push her luck with all her warm-up eating? I called out to her, encouraging her to keep going, but she leaned back and winked.

At the three-minute warning, the other woman was going into overdrive. She was on her ninth burger and the audience cheered her for beating last year’s record. It was then that Jess got to work. She held up a ball of bread and bit into it like an apple, easily tucking into it. Jess’s competitor saw what was happening, and went into a desperate overdrive.

It didn’t matter. In two minutes, Jess had finished the bread. She stood up from her seat and grabbed her water pitcher, chugging it as the crowd went wild. She finished the last drop as the buzzer rang.

The judges awarded Jess a Big Boy Burger trophy and shook her hand to congratulate her for the new record of 15 burgers in their rookie division. They said they’d have to change up the challenge next year!

I waited for her in the hall, and as she strutted through the double doors, I wrapped my arms around her and kissed. I apologized for doubting her, but Jess knew I was just looking out her. She explained that eating fiber, protein, and then carbs was all part of the plan.

She explained it as we walked down the hall. “All that bread can expand in your stomach, and it slows you down. Packing it all in at the end is just easier, and it saves room.”

“You’re a regular chess master.”

She licked her lips. “All that grease is just sitting in my mouth. I think those burgers were 20% fat. Could you get me a Coke and a salad? I’ll be there in a sec. Just need to freshen up.” She headed to the bathrooms.

I paused. “You want me to get that to go, right?”

She looked over her shoulder inquisitively. “What? No, dear. I still have two more of these to do.”

I had to check the event boards to tell if she was joking. Sure enough, she had signed up for the pie eating competition at 5pm and the “Last Man Standing” event at 7pm. I was shocked to know they’d even allow a person to do such a thing.

Jessica was adamant about doing them, so we compromised with a no-snacking rule between events. She already had five pounds of burgers inside of her, I argued. She got a little revenge on me by switching to shopping on the convention floor. By the end of the day, she had pleaded her way into getting a deep fryer, rotisserie machine, and wholesale variety boxes of meat and pork shipped to our home.

The pie eating competition was only a half-hour long, and with twenty contestants, was one of the most popular. The pie of the day was lemon meringue, and it was anarchy on the stage. Watching people dig into each pan was like watching a pie fight from a Three Stooges movie. White cream flew as competitors stuffed their faces with filling and crust.

Jess wore a thin clear poncho with rest of her rivals, but that didn’t stop her jaw turning to snow as she poured the pan into her mouth. By the time the buzzer came on, she had down 22 pies, four ahead of a chubby teenage boy from Alabama. They flung bits of meringue at each other and chuckled as the judges made their announcements.

When Jess came out of the bathroom again, she was beaming, but she was quick to ask me to look for a bench. She sat down and allowed herself to spread out her legs and lean back against the wall. There wasn’t room for me on either side of the bench, so I stood beside her and handed her a 20 oz. Coke.

“Oh, perfect.” She started sucking down the cola. “Lordy that was fun. I was slowing down at the end ‘cause I wanted that little cutie beside me to win, but I guess I just lost track of what I ate.”

“How you feeling?”

Jess slid her hands under her belt. It was undoubtedly snug, but her hands still melted into her belly as gave it a light massage.

She purred. “Like a winner, baby.” A gurgling noise was heard from her chest, and then her cheeks puffed up with air. She looked like a shocked chipmunk. Instead of a burp, she let the air come out slowly.

She glanced up at me with a serious look. “I know you weren’t crazy about how I’ve been acting today, but it’s been important for me, and I’m glad you’re here. I love you, Ted.”

Seeing Jess splayed out on that bench in her yellow dress made her look as radiant as the sun. She was beaming with contentment and joy, and it made her all the more beautiful to me.

“I love you too, Jess. More than anything in this world. You missed a spot, though.”


I wiped a dollop of cream from behind her ear and brought it in front of her face. She enveloped my finger with her fat lips and sucked it dry.

“Let’s walk around,” she said. “Better burn off some calories before the big event.”


Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
The “Last Man Standing” competition was a bit of a misnomer. The competition only had three contestants, with two women and one man. The event was held in the main hall, with room for 400 onlookers and a main stage that could have been used for theatrical productions.

Each table was fitted with a full rack of Carolina-style BBQ pork ribs, a bowl of green beans, Cajun rice, and two slices of buttered pumpernickel bread. And of course, a jug of water and glass were present. Once all of these items were “cleared,” the same portions would be replaced. Each meal had to be finished within a half hour to prevent slowpokes. Contestants could rest while new food was set down, but if they ever stopped eating or drinking for ten seconds while their meal was uneaten, they would be eliminated from the match.

They marched out each competitor with their full name and credentials and sat each left to right on stage. First was Jessica, who had quickly become a popular figure from her earlier showings. To my shock, she was still in her belt and high heels. She promised me that she would take them off before the show, but there she was, walking to her table, waving to the audience like she was Miss America.

Next up was Fred “Plowman” Rover, a retired trucker and the fattest man I’d ever seen. Apparently, he was a returning champion. His plaid shirt and jeans were practically blanket covers, and he had to come out on a scooter and get assistance to his chair. I couldn’t even imagine what someone like him could have weighed. 800, 900 pounds? Most of him couldn’t fit on his scooter! Thankfully the chairs were more like benches, since no single chair could have held that amount of mass.

Finally, a woman named Juanita Santos entered the stage. Originally from Puerto Rico, bleach-blond wavy hair adorned her soft, milk chocolate skin, and next to Jess, was the fattest woman I’d seen here. While Jess had an easy 150 pounds and 8 inches of height on her, Juanita looked to have her beat in the ass department, and especially with her tits. Those monsters were almost the size of beach balls, barely contained in a black wide-strap brassiere that you could see through her green spaghetti strap blouse. The announcer noted that she “liked long lounges on the beach, manicures, and men that know how to cook.” When she sat down, her boobs were immediately squished against the table, and her cleavage puffed up to her chin. She gave an exaggerated “What can you do?” shrug and the audience hooted and laughed.

The buzzer rang, but no clock started. The contest would go on as long as necessary. Everyone started into their banquet with a strong vigor – not one was dumb enough to rush, but no one wanted to fall behind either. Juanita started with a fork and knife, but when she saw how Fred and Jess were going with just their hands, she put them aside and joined in.

Fred finished his meal in the first 15 minutes, with Jess and Juanita following 5 minutes after. And so it went on like that for the first hour, course after course, with stage hands replacing every clean plate. It became mesmerizing to watch: Three gluttonous titans were on stage, eating an infinite amount of food in front of a rapt audience. This must have been a fantasy of Jess’s for some time.

An hour and a half later, Fred and Jess were neck-and-neck with six full courses under their belt, and Juanita struggling to finish her fifth. Juanita was wearing acid washed jean shorts, and even after she unbuttoned them on her third rack of ribs, you could tell she was regretting her clothing choices that day.

By 9pm, Jess’s smile was gone and she was downright distraught. They both were working on their 8th course, but Fred was now a half-rack ahead of her, and Jess’s pace just wasn’t quickening. Her face was getting lined with sweat, and even her pulled back hair was starting to fuzz under the lights. Just leaning forward to get to her plates was becoming an annoyance for her.

I looked down at the event book to get a better idea of what they were eating. Each course contained two cups of green beans and rice, bread that was cut ¼” thick, and the ribs! Each rack was untrimmed and averaged 2.5 pounds! How could she hold all that in?

I looked under Jess’s table and saw it. That poor wide dress belt. It had been holding back the deluge of Jess’s gluttony the whole day, growing tighter with every free sample, sandwich, and contest she had entered. While it had been downright loose this morning, now it was holding back a tide of food that was packed into Jess like a sardine can. Even the gold buckle on front was starting to bend and warp from the strain. No wonder she was having trouble leaning forward.

Right on cue, a bang emanated from the stage, almost as loud as a whip crack. Her belt pounced away from her body and slammed into the table before collapsing onto the floor. Her belly roared forward and outward, causing her whole body to oscillate. It was like her whole body was having an earthquake and an avalanche. Her dress, trapped between her homegrown monster and her thighs halted its advance, stretching its fabric to its limits.

You could hear a pin drop in that room, but Jess broke it up with a hearty belch. “Finally!” she said. And the crowd went wild. With her body once again soft and free, she went at her meal like those college guys from the burger challenge. Even Fred and Juanita looked shocked for a second, before they too went back at it.

At 9:30pm, Juanita had just barely finished her ninth course, and when they placed her meal in front of her, she waved her hands forward. “No mas, no mas,” she said. Instead she sat on stage, watching with the rest of us at the impossible match going on.

Fred’s pace hadn’t changed since the beginning, but now he was the one in trouble. The bottom half of his shirt was unbuttoned to help him breathe a bit better, but the top half was drenched in sweat.

At 9:45pm, Jess had finished her eleventh course, and had beckoned a judge to come to her while they replaced her meal. After some quick whispering, the judge nodded and went back. Jess grabbed the edge of the table and heaved herself up. She grabbed a bundle of her dress’s fabric in each hand lifted it off her body.

The crowd gasped. At first I thought Jess was nude, but then I realized her gut was distracting me from the whole picture. Jess was in a grey sports bra with crisscross straps and thigh-high spanx that barely contained her. She was in her workout gear. I never noticed her put them on in the morning since I was in the kitchen making breakfast.

She moved her bench perpendicular to the table, and the stage hands moved the meal to her body. The ribs were placed on her tit shelf, perfectly lined up with her lips. The sides were lined up along the center line of her belly, like little soldiers marching toward her mouth.

Her whole pacing changed again. Instead of manic energy, her eating could only be described as a conveyor belt system. She’d tear off a rib, suck it down, throw the bone on the table. She would feel around for a side (there was no way she could see past her tits like this), gulp it down like sake, and throw it on the table. She’d ball up the buttered bread and make it disappear in two bites. She wasn’t slowing down, and she wasn’t racing. On some levels, she wasn’t even really eating – just consuming.

Half the crowd was cheering, while the other half didn’t know what to make of her.

“Jesus, is she human?”

“Has to be fake. Part of the promotion.”

“Look at it! That woman’s gut is growing past the damn table!”

“You’re just seeing things.”

It was 10:30pm, and Jess had finished her 15th course. Her belly had transformed into an oval with pink stress stripes, too tight to even descend with gravity. The back third of it was balanced on the wide bench Jess was straddling. Jess’s body was now a balancing act with a wrecking ball of food sitting in front of her. She was undeterred, and so her belly’s only other option was to keep moving forward.

At 10:45pm, Fred had failed to finish his sides and half his ribs in the allotted time and was thus disqualified. The crowd cheered, but Jess had beckoned the judge to come to her again. She pointed to her opponents and the judge paused for a minute. Whatever Jess was asking, she was insisting.

The judge went forward to address the crowd. “The contestant says she was raised to not waste food. She has requested to finish both contestants’ plates as a single meal. I have warned her though that if she continues, the half-hour time rule will apply to her and will risk disqualification. She has accepted that risk.”

The stage hands started moving Juanita and Fred’s plates to the altar of Jess’s body. The ribs were stacked on one tray and had to be moved closer to the apex of her breasts, as they had been pushed up by her stomach. The rest of the sides were placed wherever they wouldn’t fall off. Bread was placed on her outstretched hips, and the rest were nestled in front of her bra. She had a half hour to eat everything.

She started with the green beans and rice and the machine-like pace continued. However, her stomach was finally starting to rebel. Every gulp she took, her belly groaned. When she finished with the last bowl of rice, her belly roared. Ten minutes had past. Jess’s arms were starting to shake.

The audience starting cheering her on. One man in the audience started chanting “Jumbo Jess!” and the rest of the crowd picked it up. Jess smiled at the audience, wiped her brow, and started in on the four pieces of bread. She bit into them gingerly yet quickly.

The last piece of bread went through her mouth and her stomach hit back. This time it gurgled so hard it sent shockwaves through her entire abdomen. Enough, it said. She lurched her head back and seethed. The crowded grew dim. There were ten minutes to go, and fifteen ribs left to eat.


Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
Jess shook her shoulders, coughed, and then gave her stomach a light smack. “Hey!” she yelled. “Who asked your opinion!” The audience laughed.

Jest tilted her head back and sucked down every rib like she was making love to them. With five minutes left to go, she was done. Jess spent her last two minutes chugging down her pitcher, and the crowd gave a standing ovation. The stage hands offered the two other jugs of water, but she waved them off. She was done.

The judge rose Jess’s hand in the air and declared her the winner of the 23rd annual Tallahassee Sally Last Man Standing competition. The crowd cheered until the curtain fell.

I rushed back stage to help her. Security held me up for agonizing minutes, but the judge recognized me on his way out and gave me the go-ahead. I had no idea what to expect from Jess. She put on a brave face for the crowd, but what she did on stage was unreal. Images of her passed out or surrounded by medical staff flashed through my head. What if she was passing out right at that moment? What if I just watched her eat herself sick? I dodged and pushed my way through the production staff until I got to the stage itself.

People were still walking through the stage, tearing down the props and cleaning up, but they knew enough to give Jess a wide berth. They removed her table, but no one dared to ask her to get up from her bench. She was talking to Juanita, and pulled a business card from her cleavage to hand to her. Jess talked about her vanity site, and how she was looking to expand, and how she would love to help her get started. Juanita nodded along with every word. When she finally noticed my presence, she excused herself.

“Making friends?”

Jess burped. “I hope so! She’s such a cutie.” She looked at me and smirked. “And have you seen her tits? They’re out to here!”

I knelt beside her. “Jess, are you ok?”

Jess paused. “I can’t do my breathing exercises.” She gave a short exhale through her nose. “I feel tight all over.”

I offered to look for help, maybe a wheelchair, but Jess refused. She just wanted to rest for a bit. She sat for ten minutes, periodically asking me about the audience, and how she looked up there. She asked if Carmen filmed it, and I showed her the video samples she sent me.

Finally, she decided it was time to go. She asked me to put her dress back on her first. Her shirts had a habit of riding up on her when she sat down, but her dress barely tickled her belly button. A stage hand and I grabbed Jess by the armpits as she scooted herself down the bench. When she stood, she was three inches shorter due to her hunched waddle. She swung each leg gently around her body, her arms stretched outward for balance.

When she looked down at her new real estate of flesh, her own enormity seemed to have taken her by surprise. “Drive the car up front please. I’ll meet you there.”

I drove a seven-seater Hummer, and when I opened up the shotgun door, she shook her head and asked me to take out the two middle seats. When the van was prepped, she entered ass-first, with me holding the bottom of her stomach as she shimmied her way in.

She sat on her knees in the open space. The car had plenty of headroom for her, but her ass was morphed against the bench seats in the back, and the top part of her front belly perched itself on the middle console.

“You ok back there?”

Jess swallowed as she tenderly rubbed the sides of her belly. “Mmmyep.”

“You want me to stop at McDonald’s?”

Her belly growled. “Oh God, no. Don’t even joke. I’m so stuffed.”

The drive home was quiet, and I took care to make it a smooth one. In the rearview mirror, I saw Jess taking quick, quiet breaths. When I rubbed some dust off the dashboard, I felt my elbow rub against her bare belly. I figured she must have shimmied forward a bit.

When I parked in the driveway, Jess said, “Get me… inside please. Please hurry.” It was then that I noticed how much her dress had ridden up on the way home. Her belly was touching the edge of each front seat. Driblets of sweat were dancing down her arms.

I poured her out of the car and embraced her as we rushed to the living room. She collapsed on the center of the couch, her own belly bouncing under its own anti-gravity defiance. She screamed.

“Get me naked! Cut me out of this!” She flapped the top hem for ventilation. I started a tear in her dress and spanxx leggings and the rest of the job with my hands. Jess practically ripped her own sports bra off her body. Her tits spread out diagonally and her thighs spread out, each leg showing the reddened seams and hemlines of the pants on her skin.

She grabbed the back of the couch with her hands and said she felt like she was sinking to the floor. I grabbed an ottoman and slowly hefted her stomach as I slid it under her.

Jessica belched. “Oh Christ… oh Christ… thank you… thought I’d have to… lay on the floor…”

I’d never seen her like this before, and it was hard to hide the panic in my voice. “Jess, what the hell is going on!?”

She rubbed her face. “It’s… all… that bread… remember… what I… said earlier? All that… pie crust… sandwiches… burgers… buttered pumpernickel… packed it down, but still in there… expanding…”

“After everything you ate, the bread is the problem?”

She bit her lower lip and looked up. “Well… *hic* I may have had a few donuts when you weren’t looking… at the food court… and some bagels… to make up for… breakfast.” A lurching sound erupted from her rib cage, and her cheeks puffed out. I thought she’d vomit right then and there, but she kept it down.

I sat down beside and cupped her hand. “Jess, I was worried to death today. I still am.” I motioned my arm outward. “What was the point of all this?”

All of Jess’s squirming and struggling stopped. She looked me in the eye and a soft compassion came over her face. “I made peace with what I am today.” She explained how she thought she was in love with becoming fatter, but over time she learned she loved the gluttony and spectacle more. It was more than just expanding her waistline – she loved the looks of awe and disgust in people’s eyes when she tucked in to a banquet, she loved the warmth and contentment she felt when she “ate bad,” and she loved eating until she thought she’d pop, struggling for a gasp of air. She was fat, she planned to get fatter, and wanted the world to know.

She unbraided her yacht rope of hair. “Now you can think I’m freak and get all worried, but you get something out of it too. You get to have all that I am.” She knit her hands behind her head and stretched back, smiling as if she was on an imaginary beach lounge chair.

I got up and surveyed her from an angle. She was lazing back on the couch, her hamhock arms laying on the back cushions. Her hair had created a backdrop of darkness where her portion of the couch used to be. Her fat tits barely needed a bra to support them. They rested on her chest and sprung outward like a gunslinger’s arms. Along her sides were four fat rolls that I could sink my knuckles into. Her ass and hips had created a perpetual innertube she would float in while sitting, keeping her lower back from ever truly touching the couch or the bed headboard.

Her stomach was an entity unto itself. It covered her thighs, even as her legs laid splayed on either side of the sideways ottoman. Its peak went up to her ribs and stuck out past her knees. When I approached, I could hear the low rumble of a storm in her gut, her chaotic digestion process trying to figure out what to do with itself. The red blotches of her skin had died down, but I could tell it was slowly yet surely expanding.

I looked back up at Jessica and decided to be honest with myself too. On my couch sat not just a lover, but my own dark obsession made real. A bloated Southern Gothic girl whose ambition and appetite outpaced her body. I threw my own shirt over the tatters of her dress. I leaned over her bulk and slowly embraced as much of her belly as I could. I kissed the top of her belly and slowly worked my way down, watching her squirm until her face left my view.

“Oh please… ffffuck… you bastard… I’m too full… oh my god how far back are you? Am I really that big?”

My nostrils breathed against her belly button. It surprisingly wasn’t an outie, but instead a stretched out slit. I slid the brunt of my tongue against it. Jess shuddered.

“I’m such a little piggy… oh my gosh… what did I all eat?”

I started listing off her repast as I slowly massaged her belly. 5 pounds of burgers, 22 pies, the free samples, the food court breaks…

“How many courses… did I eat?” Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She was starting to drool. She clawed the cups of her tits.

I started rubbing her bulbous feet. I told her she ate 17 courses. Without the bones, she had probably consumed 10 pounds of pork, and then there were the sides she never stopped shoving into her mouth.

Jess gave three sharp inhales before she orgasmed. She shook the couch so bad the far pillow fell, and she was ruddy faced again. I came in my own pants and collapsed into her gut.

When we both recovered, Jess asked me to take some pictures. She didn’t bother with a non-nude set this time, and instead just basked in the flash of the camera. She was shocked and delighted to see she how her tummy was a solid 6 inches out from her kneecaps.

I changed into some pajama bottoms and we both settled in for a late night movie. Jess nuzzled up against my shoulder rubbed her hand against my chest. She whispered how much she adored me, and how she’d take it easy for a while. She loved being a glutton, but there was no need to rush things. Besides, she said, she likely had enough food in her for a week.


Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
Halfway through the movie, Jess asked me for a small bowl of French vanilla ice cream to help her stomach settle. Eight minutes later she asked for another bowl, but with two scoops this time. When she finished that bowl, she decided she should just finish off the carton, but then that would be it for her, definitely. She never really got dessert at the convention and it was right to celebrate. It wasn’t until I pulled out the carton that I remember it was a value-sized: Two gallons of ice cream for the price of one. She slid a heaping spoonful into her mouth every minute or so. By the end of the movie, it was empty.

She placed the carton on the end table and rubbed her hands together. “Buurrr! Feel my belly, Ted! See how cold it feels!”

I stood up and tentatively rubbed her belly. “Whoa,” I said.

“I know, right? I’m gonna need the quilt tonight. Now help me up. I wanna measure my damage before bed.”

I didn’t tell her that it wasn’t the temperature that surprised me. Her belly was clearly further out than before the movie started. A solid three inches at least. It had consumed all but the two front corners of the ottoman.

PART 3 -- Jessica Makes a Friend

Before Jessica went to sleep that night, she marked down all her pertinent measurements. She was delighted to learn her waist sat at 120”; her own belly shot out 2.5 feet in front of her! But even she knew that would go down once everything settled, and would measure again after a week of rest.

She spent the first two days practically bed-ridden – getting up only to use the bathroom. She spread out her convention videos and photos to make up for her lack of appearances on the net, and it was perhaps the best marketing she ever had. Entire conspiracy threads were opening up online, where BBW fans debated how much of Jess’s eating rampage was real and what was photoshopped to hell and back. She loved reading through pages of the debates.

I enjoyed doting on my poor girlfriend in the meantime. She loved breakfast in bed, and I loved oiling up her body to help her body adjust to the new pounds. While “tiger strips” inevitably made their mark on Jess’s belly, she made sure to apply cold compresses to her body and even did some abdominal tension exercises to keep her skin from wearing out.

Later on in the week, Jess grew bored of being in bed and slowly started getting back into her routine. She started back into weight lifting, and soon incorporated yoga and swimming in our backyard pool to recover her stamina. While she loved to experiment with the new fryer, she kept her calorie count to a “mere” 5-6,000 calories. My guess was that she was still gaining weight, but her drive had diminished in the wake of the contest.

At the end of the week, Jess wanted to measure again with her newly settled-in body. She wanted the whole ordeal to be a surprise, and kept her eyes closed through the weigh-in and the tape.

Jess settled her body on the edge of the groaning bed. “Hit me, she said while throwing a pink bra under her tits.

“You’re 98-111-130. Thighs are 48”. Your weight is 648.” Jess had gained about 60 pounds over six weeks.

She let the numbers settle into her as she fiddled with her back straps. “Wow,” she said. “I guess that makes sense. I have been feeling… fluffier.”

That was one way of putting it. As the days wore on in her recovery week, it was clear that Jess’s body was rushing to distribute all that binge food somewhere, anywhere there was room. Jess had three chins when she looked down, and even her cheeks had put on an inch of puffiness. Her upper arms had ballooned into mini whiskey barrels of fat and muscle, and her current jewelry just would not fit on her fingers anymore.

Jess was also re-learning the limits of her body just walking around the house. Her hips bumped into me even when we crossed at her arm’s length, and Jess had to shimmy a bit just to make sure our chairs would catch all of her new giant ass.

Clothing was another casualty of Jess’s weight gain. Every day a new shirt would tear at the armpit and a month-old bra would break. Underwear would refuse to traverse her cavernous hips, and pants would burst before lunchtime. Jess didn’t even bother tying up her bathrobe anymore; her fat tits and belly wouldn’t entertain being covered by such a scant amount of cloth.

“You still feeling alright? No hypertension, no dizzy spells?”

Jess arched her back as she shored up the top part of her bra strap. “My dear, I am the picture of good health.” She looked down at her cleavage. Barely half of her breasts were contained in her cups. She felt the two-inches of muffin-topped fleshed above their rims. “Though I must admit a certain shortness of breath…”

She took a big inhale. Her shoulder straps immediately gave way and her bra cups collapsed under the rolling weight of her jugs. She leaned back on the bed. “Aaaah. Much better.” She pointed to her phone on the dresser. “Could you give me that, dear? I think it’s time for a shopping date with Juanita.”

Jess hadn’t forgotten Juanita from the convention and had filled her bed-bound time with Skype calls with her. Juanita was an immigrant from Puerto Rico and was making her way as a hairdresser a few towns over. Three years ago, she wanted to be a model, and while on the island, she had been building up quite the portfolio. Unfortunately, she found a boyfriend that that “turned her to the dark side” and plumped her up and out of a modeling career. They both came to Miami to start a new life together, but eventually she caught her man cheating on her in the apartment they shared. Her cousin offered her a couch in Texas, so she took a bus ride to restart her life.

Jess was constantly showering her with compliments and requests for lunch dates and shopping splurges (paid by her, of course). At first, I thought Jess was buttering Juanita up to be a part of her site. She had stated she wanted to do more guest shoots, but we were a little ways away from most cities. Juanita was hesitant and downright perplexed that enough people would pay to watch her eat or wear sexy clothing, even with her ample breasts. Over time, I realized that the “business calls” were more an excuse to be with a kindred spirit. As much as Jess said she didn’t care what society thought of her, I knew she appreciated having someone with some common interests around her.

Business and friendship came to a head one night when the two ladies had returned from a day-long outlet trip and wanted to relax in our jacuzzi. Both wobbled through the door, their arms filled with shopping bags, and their bellies full of Italian Bistro entrees.

I called out from the kitchen. “You didn’t call, so I made dinner just in case!”

Jess was hustling to the bedroom. “Set it up outside, dear! We’re going to the jacuzzi! We found the cutest little swimsuits today!”

Within ten minutes, Jess and Juanita chatting away in the tub while I filled up two fold-out tables with Jess’s dinner. Well, second dinner. Juanita explained they already had dinner, which was why she was having wine and my girlfriend was shoveling a bowl of macaroni salad into her mouth. When I laid out dinner, the girls beckoned me to hop in with them. They had a “big announcement” to make.

I sat between them and laid back. Jess’s waist line had been expanding with all her outings with Juanita, and I loved to rub my feet into her fat legs and rotund tummy as she talked.

Jess finished her half-chicken and rose her wine glass. “I’d like to welcome my first contracted model to JJ-Enterprises!”

They tapped glasses. “I couldn’t ask for a better boss!” responded Juanita. She explained how at first she was reluctant to be so public as Jess was, but she had seen enough of Jess’s performances and photoshoots over time to warm up to it.

“Plus, Jess has been a bad influence on me.” She stood up and poked her belly. “I’ve gained 20 pounds since I met her! If I’m going to keep getting fatter, I should at least get paid for it, si?” Juanita’s belly had grown to make a canopy over her white bikini bottoms, but it was clear she was an hourglass shape. While in the water, Juanita’s tits bobbed in front of her like the front half of two beluga whales, barely contained by the square patches of fabric in front of them. Her ass was of course nowhere near as big as Jess’s, but was more defined and bubbly compared to Jess’s bouldering cheeks.

Jess daintily clapped her hands above her head. “Waiter! More wine!”

The merriment continued, with the three of us draining the wine cabinet dry while Jess cycled through all the dishes I kept within arm’s reach. At one point, Juanita mentioned how Jess’s belly was starting to poke her knees, even though they were half a foot away from Jess’s own. Jess striped off a turkey leg and suggested that Juanita straddle up beside me.

A half hour into the evening, Jess reached for the last bowl of steak fries and told me to stop being such a gentlemen and put my arm around Juanita. “It’s cold out tonight, so help the poor girl out, hon.” I did so, and my hand sunk into the top of her hips. I loved Jess, but it was hard to hide my lust for Juanita’s body. Her warm breaths bounced off my shoulder and her right breast reached out and touched my chest with every inhale. I prayed this wasn’t some sort of fidelity test. Jess wasn’t one for many mind games, though.

Things loosened up on the seventh bottle of wine. When Jess got her apple pie desert, she removed her checkered top. Her breasts slapped down in the roiling currents, her reddened left tit pointed at me and Juanita like an atomic bomb of gluttony.


Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
She ordered me back in the house for two bottles of wine – one for Juanita and me to share, and the other just for her. When I returned, not only was there an empty pie tin on the table, but the rest of the girls’ swimsuits were hanging over the side of the tub like proud flags. They wanted to play truth-or-dare.

Before I was allowed in, Juanita dared me to take off my trunks. The wine has done a number on me as well at that point, so I slapped my trunks over the side as well. Juanita gasped and Jess nodded as she leaned over to grab her bottle.

It started innocently enough, with us talking about our early or most embarrassing sexual encounters, but it soon turned to more daring requests. Jess ordered me to motorboat Juanita, and with her permission, I dove in to the softest pair of tits in my life. Fifteen minutes later, she was telling Juanita to stroke my cock to erection, and laughing when they both saw I was already at full mast. The evening was full of fondling, massaging, and just exploring each other’s bodies.

Juanita had grown enamored with Jess and her body toward the end, constantly touching, licking, and kissing it without command. “Here’s a truth question for you, Chiquita. You’ve been eating almost the entire day. Are you full?”

Jess snorted. “Hon, for me, there’s sated, there’s comfortably fattened, there’s full, and then there’s positively stuffed. Right now…” she eyed her half full bottle. “I’d say I’m pretty darn comfy.” Jess pulled me to her side, licked my fingers, and kissed me.

When the wine ran out, Jess emerged from the Jacuzzi, and started drying off. She said she was bushed and beckoned Juanita to come in the bedroom to get dressed. I stayed behind to clean up.

When I came to the bedroom door, I saw that the door was shut, and playing on the safe side, I knocked. I heard Jess giggling from inside and she told me to come in.

Both Jess and Juanita were laying on the bed as naked, fattened queens. They laid on their sides, letting it all hang out and eyeing each other up. Jess looked up and curled her finger toward the thin space they left for me between them.

“We decided that Juanita should stay the night.” Jess palmed Juanita’s top tit and gave it a light squeeze, its flesh pouring between her fingers. “And we’re not done playing yet. Come to bed, dear.”


The internet loved Juanita. For a hairdresser, she took to the camera like it was second-nature. She was eager to please both the fans and Jess and would set up themed albums every week by request. She was still gun-shy when it came to livestreaming, but always enjoyed being Jess’s “guest” when it came to playing video games, eating, or both. They even worked in more behind-the-scenes videos for VIP members, like working out or lounging by the pool and answering questions.

Word of mouth spread on the internet, and Jess brought in more subscribers, which brought in more money, which brought in more food. It wasn’t like we were ever poor, but Jess always talked about the importance of “investment.” For her, this meant stacks of snacks and party platters would be on hand in practically every major room of the house. As soon as she walked into a room, she could grab a box of Nilla Wafers off an end table without looking and eat as naturally as breathing.

The biggest investment occurred in January. When I arrived home from work she was waiting for me right at the door and led me straight to the bedroom for a “big surprise.” I saw it immediately: a new, full-size refrigerator, facing her side of the bed. It had a sliding door, a freezer drawer on the bottom, and ran surprisingly silent. It even had a wifi-enabled touchscreen.

She told me she was getting tired of getting out of bed for midnight snack runs (and waking me up in the process), so she decided to “cut out the middle man” and bring the sustenance closer to her.

“I should have called you about it, but… I was afraid you wouldn’t like it. It’s a very quiet model for what it’s worth.”

I opened up the fridge to see it was filled to the brim with deli meats, desserts, and a variety of sodas. The images of her waking up in the middle of the night to gorge without fully leaving her bed made me rock hard. I took her on the bed right then and there.

Jessica made good use of her “investment” every day. Jess awoke more and more nights to “top off” her hunger with a midnight snack, and in the mornings, she would dig in the fridge before her feet even touched the floor to go to the bathroom. Feeling hungry without food in easy reach was no longer a possibility for Jess.

Jess’s body did the only thing it could do under such conditions: Get bigger and grow fatter. Her feet had expanded three shoe sizes to accommodate her larger frame, and her legs did the same. She would wear out pantyhose in a day from the friction of her walking, and even her hips would tag the door frames of the house. Jess had to take care to center herself when entering a room, so no side of her body would get “caught” as she walked through.

Her ass was taking on more and more real estate, and it was impossible to hug her from behind without leaning forward a bit. She loved to pin me against the wall with her giant cheeks, just to see how much of my body would be overtaken by her as she spread upwards and outwards as she pressed against me.

She could no longer stand sideways in our own hallway, as her belly protruded too far to allow it. If Jess was walking toward me in the hallway, I knew the only option was to back up and let her pass.

In three short months she was topping the scales at 742 pounds, and she was loving every second of it. During those months she started every stream session with a weigh-in and kept the number shown in the corner of the screen. She had also built a fan following which filled her hosted discussion board with a bombardment of photo, stream, and “meal time” requests.

During that time, I decided that I’d be a fool to ever let Jess go, so I made the proper preparations. On my work hours, I worked on a ranch house I bought with my own business account. I wanted my future wife to live in comfort, so there was no need for a pesky second floor. Doorways were expanded, the kitchen was modified, and the bathrooms were enlarged and covered in re-enforced tile.

The goal was to match the general style of the old home, but also accommodate her weight and lifestyle. There was a room covered in mirrors and rubber flooring for Jess’s free weights, and every spacious hallway had a railing installed along the walls. The kitchen had twice the square feet as our old one, with a connecting room that was restaurant-level freezer space.

One of my goals was to create more room for stocking frozen and pantry food throughout the house, and the contractors did it in spades. There were cabinets and snack drawers in every room, and Jess would have an even bigger refrigerator by her bed to keep up her midnight snacking routine.

The modifications took two months. When they were done, I took Jess out on a “date night.” I didn’t tell her our location, but when she saw me pull into the house, she put two and two together quick enough. She didn’t even wait for me to help her out of the van; she hustled over to the front door faster than I thought her bulk would allow.

I gave her the grand tour of the place, with Jess hanging on my arm and giving each room a look of awe.

Jess glided her hand across a hallway railing. “My God,” she said. “I haven’t bumped or brushed into anything here. I feel downright small in this place.” Her voice echoed against the white walls.

“Don’t worry,” I said, patting her ass. “You’ll grow into it.”

She looked down, deep in thought, and then asked me to show her the whole place. I gave her suggestions on where she could put her studio and office and showed off all the nooks and crannies she could put her snacks. I even demonstrated the ten feet wide walk-in bathtub and specialized shower. The shower had a sealed door and four high-powered showerheads, each made to fill up the chamber with water in under four minutes. There she could float in water up to her neck and wash herself with ease. She joked that I made an aquarium for her, but I could tell she loved the idea.

We ended the tour in the kitchen, where I said I had one last thing to show her. I got on one knee and pulled out a ring box from my pocket. Inside was a set of 1.5 karat ear rings. I told her how much our time together meant to me, and how thankful I was to meet a woman like her. I wanted to stay and make sure she was fat, happy, and content for the rest of our days. She smiled and said yes.

She took the box into her hands and inspected the diamonds. “Why ear rings, though?”

I got up and scratched my neck. “Well, I figured you might outgrow a regular ring, but ear rings will last you forever.”

She smirked and said, “You just think of everything, don’t you?” She pulled off her dress in one motion and led me to our unfinished bedroom.

Forty minutes later, I was in the bathroom relieving myself, with Jess on the phone. The first few calls were to tell friends and family the news, but that last one seemed a little more business-oriented. When I came back to the bedroom she was fully dressed and said she wanted to go to Lucky China Buffet tonight to celebrate.


Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
When we arrived, I realized what the phone call was about. She had rented out the restaurant for herself. It was a small restaurant tucked at the end of a strip mall, the kind that you could eat in or do take out by the pound. Besides the staff of three, Jess and I were alone for the evening.

Jess didn’t even wait to be seated. She immediately ambled over to the modest buffet area. There were two rows of buffet tables holding hot food, with a dessert table along the wall. She put four plates in a marching order and started filling the plates with a collection of glazed chicken and vegetables. She asked me to do the same from the other table.

When every plate was stacked with food, she left them at the end of the buffet table and settled her body onto one side of a four-person table, resting her ass on two metallic chairs. She beckoned me back, and I made four trips in placing her plates in front of her.

A waitress silently placed a pitcher of sweet tea in the sole remaining spot on the table, and she dug in. Jess ate in a determined, silent pace. The only time she spoke was after she stacked her fourth empty plate on the pile; she told me that I could have my fill from the soda machine, but all the food at the buffet was hers. I chuckled, but I also didn’t unwrap my silverware from its rolled up napkin.

After the eighth plate she chugged the remaining third of her pitcher and let out a small burp. She rapped her fingers on the table in thought. She looked back at me and said going back and forth to the buffet would take too long. She even noted how the plates they had were smaller than the dinner plates we had at home.

“Just bring me the serving trays,” she said.

“The… the entire trays?”

“Start with the crab Rangoon and the other appetizers. Oh, and tell the lovely lady up front that I need a refill, hon.” She winked and shook her pitcher.

The plates on the table were soon replaced with trays filled with lo mein, sweet pork, teriyaki beef, and more, all still steaming as they were laid out in front of her. She had laid out a two-layer map of napkins over her chest and exchanged her silverware with a serving spoon from one of trays. She tucked a rounded corner of the Rangoon tray into her cleavage and used her hand to scoop them into her waiting mouth.

The staff orbited around Jess, quickly removing the empty stack of trays from our table. After every third tray, she would chug her pitcher dry and give a hearty exhale before going back to the task at hand. I realized that this night out couldn’t be classified as a dinner date. It couldn’t even be called a feast. I’d witnessed both plenty of times in the past.


Each tray was like a chore on a checklist, a task that had too be completed to some greater reward.

“Pass me the fried rice tray next.”

She wasn’t even eating at a frantic or greedy pace, but it was the sheer, continuous quantity that was inhuman. It was like watching a compact wheel loader construction vehicle shovel calories into a never-ending pit of gluttony.

“Mix the lo mien with the general Tso’s.”

It took her 90 minutes, but Jess cleared both rows of food three times and demolished six trays of dessert. Toward the end, her stomach had shot so far past her knees that it pressed against the table. I had to push it half a foot toward me. She pointed to another dessert tray that would be next sacrificed to her.

As she finished off the last macaroon, she was more naked than clothed. She hiked her green muumuu up so only her breasts, back, and the top crest of her belly was covered. She was sitting spread eagle to allow extra room for her foldless stomach. She held a pitcher of sweet tea in each hand and finished off her gluttonous dinner, and with a bit of showmanship downed each one in four long gulps.

She gave out a belch that shook her jowls and jiggled the sugary stained napkins off her tits. She smiled and rested her arms along her sides. Her upper arms smooshed down on her sides; the lowest they could go without effort were at a 45 degree angle.

She spent the last twenty minutes before closing resting and basking in her fatness. The hostess came by and said we would have to leave soon; she had eaten everything they had anyway.

Jess chuckled. “Not everything, dear.” She pointed to the ice cream counter and the three containers of ice cream. She pulled out a wad of cash from her cleavage and requested they be delivered to the van. Jess was too bloated to push herself up from the table, so some of the staff had to help her to the van.

When we got home, Jess wasted no time and headed to the bedroom. With her belly resting on the bedframe, she got undressed. Meanwhile, I took the three containers of ice cream and settled them into a clear plastic moving day box. We used it for clothing the first time we moved in together. Each container was three gallons of ice cream: Vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry. When I was done, it was like a box of Neapolitan ice cream made for a giant. I was shaking when I carried it to the bedroom; Jess loved ice cream after a big meal, but could she really eat all this? I could tell she was uncomfortable in the car, but she also mentioned how much she wanted dessert with her movie.

As I entered the bedroom, Jess was buck naked and leaving the bathroom, her hips smacking and sucking the door frame.

“Thank God you got that new house,” she said. “I think my belly touched the wall when I was on the toilet.”

I propped her up against all our pillows and turned on Netflix on the wall TV. The bed squeaked as I climbed up and handed her evening treat to her. Her ice cream container was so big that she had to move her breasts off her body. She was using the same technique from the buffet to feed herself.

She dug her over-sized spoon into the ice cream and looked into my eyes. “How are you feeling, right now?” she asked.

“Me? How are you?”

She licked her lips. “A bit peckish, but the ice cream can wait. I’d like it to get a bit softer, anyway.” She glided her hand down the part of her belly she could touch and rested it on her out-flowing ass. “I mean, how do I look to you right now? Because you didn’t say much at dinner. Sometimes I think I scare you.”

I got on my knees and kissed her deeply. “No, you amaze me. Sometimes I get worried that you’re pushing yourself too much, but you love what you’re doing so much that I can’t help but get hypnotized.” I slid one hand into the fold of her back and held her other hand. “But I love you, I love your body, and I love to watch you eat.”

Jess sighed. “That’s really good to hear. You know that I really love to eat. Sometimes the food doesn’t even matter!” She hiccupped and laughed. “I definitely have a body for it, and now that I have such a cute and helpful fiancé, I just kind of said ‘fuck it!’ I decided to really let loose today.”

“You’ve been holding back?”

“A little. I know I gave you that ‘all that I am speech’ before, but I still try to hold back my appetite for big spectacle videos to make it seem like I’m binging or whatever, but that’s how I’d like to be all the time. I feel like I could grow twice my size and still not be satisfied. When I saw the house you built for me, I realized that dream could come true. Is that scary?”

I picked up her breast – a two hand job now – and licked her nipple vigorously. Jess seethed in delight. “I think it’s sexy,” I said. I furrowed my brow in mock scorn. “Now eat your ice cream. I like fat women, not chubsters like you.”

Jess harrumphed. “Chubby! I’ll show you chubby. You’re going to marry an 800 pound wife and I’ll make you carry me down the aisle!”

I turned on the movie and Jess got to work. She couldn’t even see the TV with the mountain of ice cream in front of her, but I didn’t think she minded. Halfway through, she started giving small moans after every bite, the result of half pain and half ecstacy of reaching fullness.

Ten minutes later I abandoned even pretending to watch the movie and massaged her, beckoning her to continue eating. At 1 AM, she tipped the box to her mouth and drank the last half liter of melted ice cream. She threw the box to the floor and gasped.

“Oh my god! So good! I’m so fat! Help me roll over!”

I jumped out of bed on command. While she cradled her stomach, I helped cradle her to her side. Her belly and tits splayed out over the center of the bed, taking up a shocking amount of real estate. She turned her head back to me.

“Now help roll me again.” She said. She started wriggly her right leg back for support. “I wanna do it doggy style.”

It took awhile to adjust and move back all the parts of her body, but we managed. Jess looked like a cartoon character, like a mouse found two days later in the pantry. I guess she wasn’t completely full because her belly spread out past her sides and pushed her upward, her arms helplessly in the air and only her toes touching the bed. Her ass cheeks swayed like two hills made of jelly. She had to lift the lower half of her face out of her pillowy tits just to talk.

“Oh no…” she cooed. “I’m so helpless. Please be gentle, mister. I’m so full and horny.”

I pushed back her thighs and got to work. My balls slammed into the underside of her paunch as I entered her.

“Tell me… tell me how fat I am…”

“You’re probably the biggest girl in Texas, that’s how fat you are.”

“Oh god… you’re probably right…”

“You’re so fat, you ate out an entire buffet! You fucking glutton! I bet if I put a casserole in front of you, you’d start shoveling it into your mouth right now!”

Jess’s hips started shaking. I gripped onto her ass to keep from being bucked off.

“Oh no, please…”

“You’re such a pig, and the whole world knows it!”

She came soon after, and I followed suit. I collapsed onto her body, and then helped her get back into a sleeping position. She told me how much she loved me as I turned off the lights.




Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
PART 4 - Holy Fatrimony
That following morning, Jess did everything in her life “bigger.” I woke up to my fiancé working her way through the remainder of what was in the bedside refrigerator. She told me she’d get a shower when she was done, so could I be a darling and get started on breakfast?

Jess said her “800-pound bride” goal wasn’t a joke; it was a promise and a goal. Jess had her daily weigh-in the morning before I showed her the new house. Her weight gain had been tapering off in the previous months, and that day she learned she was a “meager” 759. She had put on less than 20 pounds in the last two months. That was of course before her buffet trip, but it still bothered her. I told her that she was a big girl, and even with her appetite, it would be hard to gain like she did in the beginning.

She scoffed and said she just needed to make some adjustments. We wanted to keep our wedding small and decided on a date three months from now. “Plenty of time,” she said.

Jess was always an active girl, going back to her farm life. She still enjoyed swimming, lifting weights, and even going a few laps on the treadmill before she broke it. Jess said she’d keep up her exercise, but would focus on cardio with some HIIT training. She said she didn’t plan on becoming immobile and would keep it up as long as her body would allow it.

Of course the way she ate changed as well. No more “tricky” or taxing foods. No crab legs, and if she wanted steaks, she would ask for the meat to be cut off from the bone first. When I had free time, I’d open the wrappers from the candy bar value packs we bought. She would also bring grocery-style carry baskets whenever she pulled food from the kitchen to bring with her to the living room. Even while “relaxing” with TV or checking her site stats, I could tell she was eating faster.

She had always snacked between meals, but now she drank her own specialty shakes between snacks. They were a mixture of weight gain powder, heavy cream, sugar, water, and lard. She made it into a hobby, always trying out new flavors and estimating the calorie count of each one. Eating constantly was a tiring activity for Jess, and the shakes helped keep up the sense of fullness she loved in her tummy.

Even a few weeks in, the changes to Jess’s body were noticeable. She refused to weigh herself before the wedding (much to the chagrin of her fanbase), but her current clothes were riding up and ripping on a near daily basis. Even with our XL seating, Jess found the side benches along the dinner table more appealing for her meals. You’d think that her fat rolls would accumulate with more cellulite, but ironically the opposite happened with Jess. Her body was working overtime to find places to store all the fat she was accumulating, constantly pushing her legs and sides outward. She was like a series of parabola curves than a jiggly BBW (though she still had plenty of that in her step). Her raven hair was practically a mini-cape at this time, only trimming the bangs and around the ears for her comfort. She would reflexively pushed her hair up when she sat down to keep it from getting caught under her mass.

Juanita was doing her best to be a supportive friend, but even she was beginning to get a bit shocked at Jess and her lifestyle. Jess still enjoyed her shopping excursions with Juanita, but they were more like browsing for Jess, who was going beyond even most stores’ tent dresses. Instead, Jess ordered custom-tailored clothing she originally bought at the outlets, making sure to make deep cuts for her cleavage. Often her shirts were just oversized bralettes to let her torso “breathe.”

Juanita enjoyed eating and lounging at the pool with Jess, but she would be full an hour before my fiance and just watch in amazement as Jess put away another shrimp platter. They even had a small scare one day when during a bikini wrestling photoshoot Jess toppled over Juanita. Juanita had ballooned up to 554 pounds by that time, but she might as well have been 100 pounds soaking wet when Jess came crashing down on her. Thankfully both girls were oiled up, and Rebecca was able to roll Jess off her.

Even with the scare, Juanita was never a more loyal and caring friend. While Jess would never admit it, she was practically a nursemaid to her. She helped press Jess’s hair to iron-straightness, rub lotions on parts of her body she had trouble with, and would volunteer to grab her snacks while they were watching TV. Juanita would tell me that she wanted her friend to be “happy on her wedding day” but I could tell Jess was working her to be something more. On nights with heavy drinking, Jess would be the dom to Juanita’s sub, “jokingly” commanding her to feed her sweets, give her back rubs, and to fill her wine glass. This would escalate as the days and nights went on, and Juanita would often find her way into our bed. Some nights I’d find Jess suckling her friend’s tits as a “midnight snack.” Juanita would lie there and moan, grabbing onto Jess’s folds.

Ninety-one days of gluttony and gorging came and went, and it was time to weigh in. Jess stayed in bed naked and asked me to bring the scale to the bed frame. She said she felt bloated and lazy from the previous night’s fried chicken feast, but I think she was mainly afraid of wasting a single calorie on any walking.

I positioned the cold metal scale perpendicular to Jess’s side of the bed as she wiggled and jostled her way to the edge of the frame. First her left leg would push past her lurching belly and find footing on the carpet, and then she would right herself upward as the other leg followed. She tried to push herself off the bed, but her hips had spread out so far that her hands could only grab onto the bed if she bent forward, and today she simply wasn’t in the mood for that discomfort.

She wiggled her fingers toward me for a good pull up, and I happily obliged. As soon as Jess was standing, her naked flesh started enveloping my own. I stepped aside and waved her to the scale, not one foot away from her.

The scale groaned under the pressure of her pudgy feet. It was a 3X3 industrial model with a digital read-out. After three beeps, it reported Jess’s weight at 804 with 58% body fat. Jess hollered in celebration. “Yes! Amazing eights baby!” She beamed at me. “I’m one fat momma!”

I asked Jess to step forward a few steps off the scale. She still didn’t notice. I scooted the scale back in front of her and told her to get back on. She looked at me quizzically but obliged. This time her body fat was the same, but her weight clocked in at 829.

Jess gasped. “What’s going on? Why is it higher?”

“You uh… you were still too close to the bed. Part of your butt was still resting on the frame.”

“Are you serious? Damn, guess I have trouble knowing my own size!”

She backed up and plopped back down on her side of the bed, and right on cue, the metal rail snapped and pitched the whole side downward. Jess grabbed the sheets on instinct and the noise reverberated across the room. Jess’s body laid across the newly inclined level of the bed, her belly piling up against the floor. We stared at each other in silence, Jess trying to catch her breath and me looking down at my beautiful mess of a woman.

Jess put out a small belch. “So about that new house…”

We held the wedding and the reception at our new abode. It was a small affair, with only a court official and small group of friends attending. The reception had a full spread, with two of everything – one of which, of course, was reserved just for Jess. This included the 4-tiered wedding cake. We spent the day catching up with friends, drinking copious amounts of champagne, watching clips of Jess’s early streaming days, and eating. Jess in her wedding dress stayed stationed on the couch with a semi-circular table in front of her. The guests and I rotated duties in clearing off plates and bringing in more of her favorites, with a heaping slice of cake always to her left side.


Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
Some old out of town friends would sometimes pause in mid conversation to gaze at Jess. This giant woman that had to lean forward to reach the far plates on her table, eating with a jovial, but determined pace. She paused only to be polite and make small talk with the guests that approached her, and even then would fit in a few bites, increasing her pace again to signal the conversation was over. Was this really the same Jess from just a few years ago?

Around 11pm, Jess had cleared out her side of the spread alongside her cake, and was only asking for champagne. She started stretching out her arms and yawning as a hint for the guests to take their leave.

Juanita helped me package the leftovers and clear off Jess’s table before she called it a night as well. I looked at my new wife, who was leaning back on the couch and rubbing the fabric of her dress.

“I love you,” she said.

“You look like a fluffy cloud.”

Jess inhaled, her breasts flowing over the strapless bust of her dress. “Oh I’m more than fluffy right now, believe me. I’m stuffed. Help me up, darling.”

I took her to our new bed, twice the size of the original, with a re-enforced concrete base. I helped remove her veil and the outer hem of the dress, but told her to lie down in the rest of the dress. I had a wedding surprise for her.

She hurried into bed and got in her upright position. I could tell she was expecting a midnight snack, like a nice bowl of ice cream. She was partially right.

I wheeled in a funnel system connected to a 10-gallon water barrel, twice the size to the kind at company water coolers. At the top of the barrel was pump box that created suction to move the weight gain shake inside. The tube was a thin but durable plastic with the diameter of a shotgun barrel. I hopped into bed beside her, the tube in one hand, and the remote in the other.

Jess looked at me with shock, then hesitation.

“Oh no… honey… I love it but I can’t tonight. It’s too much. I’m so full.” She took a big inhalation and puffed out her body. Jess planned ahead for her dress, and the sides were made of an adjustable lycra stretch fabric. It basically kept the front and back of her dress together. As the evening wore on, more and more of the lycra could be seen. Even while she was on the bed the fabric showed a healthy tautness.

I slowly dug my pointer finger into her belly. A segment and a half of it disappeared into her dress.

“Oof,” she said.

“A few months ago, in the jacuzzi,” I said. “You mentioned after a big meal you felt either sated, fattened, full, or stuffed.” I placed the remote in her hand. “Be honest with me. When was the last time you felt really full, past the breaking point?”

Jess looked up in thought. “The Chinese buffet.”

“And yet you ate a bucket of ice cream when we came home. I think you were trying to get stuffed, or at least keep that full feeling going. I think that’s when you’re happiest; not just eating, but the tightness, the growth. The feeling like you’re about to pop and stuffing your face just a little more.”

I waved my arm across the room. “I think if your body would let you, you’d eat until your stomach hit the wall.”

Jess shivered and squeezed her breasts together.

I laid the tube across her chest. “I’m your husband now, and I want to help you chase your bliss. I want you to go to bed every day satisfied. But most of all… I want my wife to get some meat on her bones for once.”

Jess burst out a laugh that barely covered some crying. “You big jerk. Put that thing in my mouth, I’m hungry.”

I pinned the skirt of her dress under her belly and got the tube ready. I let Jess have the remote; it was a simply ON/OFF function.

Jess took to the tube like a pro. She took deep, slow breaths through her nose as the first drop of the weight gain shake touched her tongue. I programmed the system to go slow, with only about a pint a minute going through. I could tell this speed annoyed Jess by her expression, but I rubbed her shoulders and told her it’s not a race. I estimated it would take her an hour to get through it all.

It didn’t take long to see the effects start to take place. Jess had gulped down thousands of calories just hours before at her party, and her wedding cake alone clocked in at 4,100 sugary kcals. This also didn’t include the sizable breakfast and lunch she had that day either.

Ten minutes in, Jess had to lift her arms to free them from the pinching lycra bands along her sides. I could see those bands getting thinner as they continued to stretch to contain her mass. Her belly began to slowly awaken as it moved down and across the tops of her calves.

Twenty minutes in, Jess was frequently adjusting the bust of her dress to contain her tits. She practically looked like a busty anime girl, with over half her tits flowing over the rim, and just barely enough material to cover the oversized nipples within. She finally realized the futility of modesty and unzipped the front of her bodice to let her breasts free. A lot of her new weight had settled there, and they each slammed down on to the mattress. While specialty bras had helped in the fight against gravity, they had grown to be as long as my arm and would hang free in the air jwhile standing if given the chance.

As Jess chugged the mixture, her wedding dress continued to stretch across herself. It began to bend inward at the front of her belly; it was like her own body was consuming her clothing. Fifteen minutes later the lycra on the right side snapped in one go. Her dress flew up in the air and whipped around her like a satellite in orbit, settling on the left side of her body. I removed the tatters from her body and continued to watch my wife’s gluttony unfold.

Her belly grew in mass and every direction possible. It sunk into the mattress like a black hole model. The tip of her belly stretched to be level half her calves and covered all of her outstretched legs above. Her skin didn’t bruise or make new stretch marks, and her belly button didn’t become an outie, but there were no soft areas to be found on it. It was a solid mass, a boulder that was growing bigger.

In the last ten pints, her belly was so tight it was becoming spherical. Jess was so stretched out that the drink had no where to go but up. Every drop made her belly gain altitude. It had become an imposing beast overshadowing her sweating face.

Finally the machine ran dry, and Jess swatted the hose from her mouth. She let out a guttural scream, akin to a woman giving birth or a man getting his legs crushed. The picture frames on the dresser danced and the head board shuddered from the force alone. She looked at me through her frazzled bangs with wild eyes. She belched, which transitioned seamlessly into more screaming.

I shot up to rub her stomach, but she waved me away.

“Don’t touch… no… no rubbies…” she collapsed into her pillows. “Too fuuuulll…” her words were mixed with a gurgling inflection.

Jess spent the next few minutes huffing and learning how to breathe again. She situated herself and leaned on what were once her elbows. “Can’t see,” she said.

My heart skipped. “What?”

Jess smiled and burped. “Can’t see… in front of me…” She put her hand at her eye brows, like a sailor looking for land. “All belly, all fat. So faaaat.” She licked her lips in ecstasy.

Jess was right. Her stomach was now taller than her head. She was lying a bit reclined, but even at a now impossible 90 degree angle, I doubt her view would change much.

Jess’s speech was turning into a drunken slur. “Like a magnificent sunrise… into being a big fat boss-bitch!” She fell back into her pillows and back fat and giggled. She wiped the sweat off her brow and began to gain lucidity. “Good thing I recorded it.” She pointed at the camera mounted in the roof corner. “I thought you’d try something ‘special’ tonight, you little sneak. Subscribers are gonna love it after editing.”

I asked her if it was all an act. She grabbed me by arm and pulled me in for a kiss. “No, babe. You did it. I am one stuffed momma. I know I can’t feel like this every night, but I’m so grateful to have such a cutie that knows how to keep a girl fat and happy. You may have done too good a job because there is NO way we can consummate the wedding tonight.” Her belly gurgled in agreement.

“But when I recover, I am going to fuck you stupid in our new home. Every day is going to be non-stop feeding and fucking from here on out. I’m going to get so big you’ll have to roll me into a warehouse. Now come to bed, dear. But so help me if you roll into me or kick me tonight I’ll crush you.”

I slipped into bed, under the eclipse of her body.


Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
Four months later Jess was tapping her new full body stats into her phone. Her premium members got the info a few hours before the rest of the world: 152-169-172. Her waist was a bit of a cheat since she had it resting on the bed when we measured, but the number was the number. At 905 pounds, Jess was a sight to behold.

Her raven black hair now reached the back of her knees, still straightened with hours of chemicals and hot presses. Her bras held more metal than a construction site, with chains and steel wires embedded in the heavy fabric of her straps joining their ends in rivets. The back strap was as tall as my forearm and necessary to hold back the 98 pounds of tit flesh from wobbling with every step she took. Jess would complain about the fabric digging into her skin, but overall appreciated the wide shelf her bras created when she snacked on the couch. She had done away with panties unless it was for a specialty photoshoot and was mostly a muu muu girl going forward. Before a gorging session, she moved like a walking water bed, but she loved the feeling of her undulating flesh as she moved from room to room. Her hands stuck outward and would lightly spin to help time every massive footstep.

Local and national news crews were stopping by to cover Jess’s success story of being a queen of the fetish internet. She of course loved the attention and would always put on a show for them. She’d brag about retaining her mobility while chewing eight pizza rolls and would show them her specialty bathroom in our new house.

In one recent segment that went viral, she dressed in an oversized bikini and stepped into her shower. It had plexi-glass doors that sealed from the outside in, and with the addition of two additional water spouts, it filled up with water quickly. While neck deep in water, she’d explain how easy it was to get clean in “zero gravity” and tap the glass with her wrecking ball of a stomach. The news reporter mentioned how it was the first time he saw her without food in her hand.

“Oh,” she said while washing her armpits. “I’ve been talking to my hubby about that. We’re planning on adding a feeding tube in here, from the ceiling. Mmmmm… I’d love to get fattened while swimming in here. What a divine feeling…”

Afterwards she sat on the couch wearing a magenta dress and fielded the standard set of questions.

Yes, I’m in good health. My blood pressure is a little high, but besides that my doctors are delightfully confounded.

No, my husband isn’t forcing me into this lifestyle. If anything I have to prod him to go to the grocery store more!

Yes, I’m basically always a bit hungry. It’s a bit of a pain at night, but that’s what the feeding tube and the snack fridge is for.

Yes, I do have a good relationship with the local take out places.

No, I don’t have a particular stopping goal in my weight gain. I’ll weigh 100 tons if my body will let me.

Oh goodness, sex is still wonderful. I have to be careful eating too many fatty meats because they get me particularly rand—*braaap* oh excuse me, randy. I've broken enough beds in my time, thank you! Missionary is a bit difficult these days but I love to ride my man cowgirl style.

She was a pro answering these questions, and she never minded them as they always drove more traffic to her network. In fact, she had started attracting other BBWs to come to her network and she pulled in a sizeable side income from them. With help from me, she began to grow out her business, hiring webmasters, social media managers, and connecting her new talent with their own small crews. She would rotate featured ladies to fly to our home to do photoshoots and streams with her. A seal of approval from Jess would give a strong subscriber boost to anyone under her umbrella.

Jess delegated more and more of her business so she could spend more time doing what she really loved. This all culminated two months later when I got an urgent phone call from Juanita. She told me that she was worried about Jess and said I should come home immediately. I could hear Jess yelling in the background for Juanita to come back to her.

Juanita met me at the garage side door, taking up half of the frame. She was just a hair short of 600 pounds but at that moment she looked small in her worry.

“She’s been streaming for hours. We’d been doing a Q&A on the couch but then she…” she looked off to her side.

I grabbed her by the shoulders. “What? What’s wrong?”

“She told me to not tell you. You should probably see yourself.”

When I entered the living room, I saw the empty bags and refuse first. Jess sat center-left of the couch, with plastic wrappers flanking her the slope of her mountainous body. Even more littered around her legs and the front of her body. She had two packaged of double stuffed oreos resting on her tits, with one of them half empty. They were the only pieces of food left uneaten. She was stuffing as many cookies as her fat hands could fit into her mouth. A smattering of black dust covered her cheeks and triple-chin.

Later on I’d watch the archived video stream and see what flipped Jess’s switch. While snacking and chatting, Jess started to complain about the room getting cold. When Juanita got up to grab a quart of milk, she finally understood Jess’s complaint. Jess’s belly was finally touching the floor. About two hands worth of stomach had touched down when she noticed, and Juanita told Jess the news.

Jess immediately checked her phone to watch her own stream and saw the development for herself. She paused, shocked at her own size. Then she began to touch what she could of her body. She pulled her dress up to her tits and beamed with pride at her enormous stomach. Then she told Juanita to get as much junk food from the kitchen as possible.

Jess told her audience that the Q&A session was going to end early, and then leaned over to the food cabinet to the left and rear of the couch and poured the contents over her body. Juanita said she watched her friend turn into a ravenous beast, eating whatever was closest to her, like she had been starved for days. She spoke only to give commands for Juanita.

I kicked the pile of garbage that had assembled in front of her belly and saw it myself. Her paunch was firmly on the floor, taking up a pizza tray’s worth of diameter. It was at equal pacing with her feet.

Jess looked up and gave me a surprised look. She hadn’t noticed me enter the room in her food stupor. She put up one finger and continued scarfing down cookies. In a few scant minutes, both oreo packages were empty, and she swiped them off her breasts to join their brethren on the couch.

She wiped her mouth and gave a petite burp. Her eyes were half open and her mouth was in a permanent blissful smile. “Mmmm, don’t block the camera, honey.” I stepped aside and glanced at the laptop on the end table. Jess was averaging $20 a minute in donations for her little show.

I asked her how she was feeling. She said she was feeling great now that one of her fantasies had finally happened. She always loved how her body would make contact with things a normal human shouldn’t. This was an apex moment for her, a thought she masturbated to a year ago. She loved how she didn’t even notice until her friend told her. Plus, it felt nice to “drop the anchor down.” The pulling sensation of her stomach after a long feed was hardly comfortable, and putting it on a footstool was always a bit awkward for her. A few months ago her legs had gotten too fat for the foot rest to even be a real option for her anyway. Too much of her fat got bunched up.

With a small exhale she leaned to her right, her wiggling fingers looking for the next morsel. Her forearm smooshed against her exposed milky hips has it descended. To her disappointment, she touched only the couch cushion.

Juanita came in with a party-sized jar of trail mix. She opened it and tucked it right into Jess’s cleavage. Jess tilted her head around it and faced me.

“I need you to heat up those two trays of lasagna I didn’t get to last night. And get me that bucket of chicken from the fridge; you don’t need to heat it up. And Juanita, could you get me the rest of the malted milkshakes from the fridge? Thank you, sweetie”

Jess said goodbye to her fans for the day and tipped the jar into her waiting mouth. She spent the next three hours on the couch, a queen expecting endless tribute. While we weren’t out of food, I realized I would have to go grocery shopping that night when Jess slept off her latest spectacle.

After the trail mix and the chicken, she chugged three shakes in succession, only coming up for air when each was empty.


The lasagna was half cold when I handed them to her, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care to even use utensils. She was like Garfield, just plying fistfuls of cheese, sauce, and pasta into her waiting maw.


I ordered the usual delivery from our favorite Chinese restaurant. I probably would have held back on the order if I had remembered all the cold cuts still in the bedroom fridge, but it was too late now. Jess remembered, though, and Juanita ferried the 8 pre-made subs to her while I put away the garbage and cleaned up her face.


The delivery boy had to make two trips from his car. We placed the 12-course meal on her body, and nestled the soups and lo mein in her breasts. She clapped with excitement to see how much her enormous body held. She even had room for more! “Speaking of which,” she said, and then popped open the lid to the General Tso’s chicken.
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Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
I went into the kitchen and grabbed a fork. I pulled the shrimp off her and sat on my knees beside her. I had to lift her right breast over my thighs to get close enough to her. She seethed; her breasts were always sensitive when she was stuffed.

I punctured a shrimp and twirled it slowly, keeping its sauce from dripping. Jess stared at it hypnotically. I glided it into her waiting mouth. She balled her hands up, chewed, and gave a strained gulp. She breathed like an animal in heat.


In my head, it was better to feed her slowly and give her time to digest than to let her shovel the food into her. But really, I knew I could have put the food in the fridge and there wouldn’t have been a damn thing she could have done about it. I was trapped in the orbit of my wife’s gluttony. No, it was more than that. I was a willing participant. This was foreplay for me as much as it was for her. I just hoped in the back of my mind that I would have the strength to stop when Jess’s lifestyle got too much for her.

I placed the empty container on the end table and reached for the walnut chicken. A quick “I love you” came out of Jess during a quick exhale. I plopped a piece of chicken into her mouth and rubbed her shoulder.


“There’s no more. You ate it all, Jess.”

“Aw *huff huff* well, cool. Good.” Jess’s head was beet red and throbbing. I could see a vein pumping alongside her forehead. It had been a while since I saw a look of relief from Jess in response to food being out.

I got up and surveyed the damage. Jess was visibly fatter since I got home; it was practically a minor transformation. It was like someone took a bicycle pump to her mouth and gave it twenty good pumps. Her head had sunk into her back fat. The tips of her ear lobes connected with her shoulders. Her eyes were fluttering in drowsy pain and ecstasy. Her tongue lolled to the side in exhaustion, trying to make room for more air to reach her lungs. Her arms stuck upward a little thanks to her arm fat catching in her pits, like she was waiting for servant to towel her off. Her chin was half hidden inside the top fold of her neck.

Her whole body twitched, tingled, and undulated as it tried to adjust to its new state of fattening. Even her hips had taken up more real estate on the couch. Her tits, normally strong and perky, looked uncomfortably overfilled and tired. Her left nipple held a white dot of milk at its tip.

Jess mentioned how her legs felt numb, and I could see why. Just like any deep feast, Jess’s belly went into a state of frantic expansion, pushing and hugging her barreled legs as far as they’d allow, and then finally blobbing forward. Her stomach covered a surface area as wide as herself before her hips came into play. It sat a full six inches past her feet and managed to cover her big toes to show them who’s boss. The top blubber of her belly washed back and forth with her breathing, pushing into her whenever she inhaled.

I took some pictures and video for Jess, and after she was satisfied, she suggested a movie night.

“Go get Juanita and see if she wants to join. And get me a water jug too when you come back. And make sure—” A small earthquake went through her body, shaking her whole body. It was like the hand of a giant wanted to see her jiggle. A belch exploded from her mouth, one that I had never heard before. It lasted a solid 15 seconds and was like a THX sound test. Even her thick bangs were blown into a V from the force. It rose into a crescendo three different times before finally dying out.

Tears streamed down her eyes and she heaved back and forth. A thick trail of spittle slapped into her chins. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. “Oh gaaaawd that felt good. I needed that.” She sniffled and tried to wipe her tears off, but her arms were too high, too fat, and too tired to do that task just yet. She shrugged and looked back at me. “And make sure not to put the jug on my belly, please.”

While I got the popcorn ready, Juanita rubbed down Jess with a cool wet rag. I overheard their conversation.

“It’s scary seeing you eat sometimes, Jessy. Don’t you get worried sometimes? Like you’ll get a bellyache too big, or you’ll hurt yourself?” A pause. “Or worse?”

“I love you, Juanita, but no. If that happens, it happens, but I’m living my best life right now. Not just the eating, but the people I’m with. You and Ted are the most beautiful people in my life. It’s why I never feel worried, even if I could positively burst right now.”

Juanita squeezed the rag and dipped it into a fresh water bucket. She pressed it into her biggest side fold. Juanita’s hand disappeared inside it. “You’re so big… like a fertility goddess from my history textbooks.”

“Ha! That woman’s got nothing on me!”

Juanita washed her armpits, and that gave Jess enough lubrication to put her arms down a little. They laughed at the squeaky sound her arms made as she rotated them.

I stepped into the room. “Who wants popcorn?”

Juanita perked up immediately. “Me, me! I’m starving. Someone wasn’t in a big sharing mood today.”

Jess grunted. “You stuffed your face during the livesteam, same as me. But no popcorn for me, thanks.”

“Never thought I’d hear those words.”

“Lotta firsts today, hun. Now gimme that water jug, momma’s thirsty.”

I put on a scary movie, The Conjuring. Jess was a proud bossy bitch in her life, but she was a big scaredy cat when it came to horror films. When we first started dating, I loved to see her body wiggle every time she got spooked by a jump scare. The few extra pounds she put on since then would make her the real main attraction tonight.

Without fail, Jess would bunny hop a few millimeters from her seat with every jump scare. The couch would groan under the force and both Juanita and I would bounce into Jess, which would just make her jiggle more.

“We better buckle up, Juanita!” With exaggerated effort I slapped Jess’s boob over my lap. Juanita giggled and put her share of my wife’s gifts over the left half of her belly.

Jess bonked me in the head with her empty water jug and gave a fake pout. “You big meanie.”

I grinned back at her. “Name calling and assault? You’re going to have to get punished for that.”


Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
Juanita and I grabbed our respective tits and sucked on them. Jess protested and jostled, but was too bloated to do anything about it. New electric rivers of pain and ecstasy hit her brain as she curled her toes and groaned. We kept going until she visibly shook from orgasm. I’d never seen a woman be so out of breath from being on a couch all day. Jess blew her bangs up and demanded ice cream. We laughed and Juanita headed to the kitchen.

Jess fell asleep before the movie ended, having conquered a gallon-sized carton of ice cream. She snored lightly with a smile on her face. She was 964 pounds.


Jess’s heavy weight lifting was paying off as the pounds piled on. She kept up a level of autonomy most people couldn’t dream of at her size. She could roll out of bed, wash herself (with the help of her special shower), and even walk about the house and in town for surprisingly long distances before getting winded. She even did “standing sessions” when using the tube pump for her audience so they could have a better view of her getting plumped up.

Still, you don’t get to be Jess’s size without mobility issues. She couldn’t remember the last time she put on shoes herself that weren’t slippers and flip-flops. Driving a car was impossible; she couldn’t fit in either of the two front seats. Every day she was surprised by what her body was bumping into as she walked about in town and even in our own home. No vase, door frame, or table edge was safe when Jess’s guard was down. Her neck, shoulders, and chest had crowded her vision and made it hard for her to look down without bending her waist. Her hips now stuck out six inches further than her outstretched arms could reach. Even with these annoyances, the idea of her body growing out of her touch and control aroused Jess to no end.

Getting up from a seated position was probably the biggest change. When Jess woke up from the couch after the belly-floor binge incident, she soon realized she couldn’t get up for breakfast on her own. Jess blamed it on being bloated, but a week later I installed handle straps from the ceiling so she could pull herself up. She brushed against the idea but didn’t stop it either. I put some by the dinner table and bathroom in the coming days.

Adjustments had to be made for her job as well. Any clothes “built to last” for Jess had to be custom-ordered and were often made for her comfort moreso than the camera. Her bras highlighted the different modes Jess went into the best. Sexy tops were often made of the weakest material and would stretch out after a few days of use. In fact, during her Texas Ranch Girl shoot, Carmen would have to put the camera on a timer and hold up Jess’s tits with a surfboard for the added illusion of perky cleavage. In Jess’s off-hours, she would wear giant push-up bras to keep her tits as an accessible horizontal shelf during her snacking sessions. Regular bras offered little support to her, but she would still wear them around the house and out in public to keep her decent and reduce the wobble in her step. On laundry day she’d lumber around the house naked or be skinny-dipping in the pool, happy as a clam.

Carmen got creative with the photoshoots and started highlighting Jess’s size instead of thinking how to contain it. Once a month they would have a body painting shoot, turning her body into a work of art. On Christmas she would have santa’s suit painted on her as her chubby elves “prepared” her for the season with plates of cookies. Halloween would turn her belly into a first prize jack o’ lantern.

They also worked her fat into fun pop culture homages. One time they brought in a new 5’4” 250 lb blonde model to recreate the Magnolia rose bed scene. Instead of roses petals, the model was covered in red snoball cakes, and the background she laid back on was Jess’s reclined stomach. A fan favorite was the “Homer in Hell” scene with Jess strapped to a chair being force fed 200 donuts. Juanita played a confused succubus, feeding her mountains of pastries. Video clips proved those donuts weren’t just for props!

Video game streams looked like they’d be cancelled when Jess could no longer keep her controller in both hands at once. She had to keep her game pad on her tits to keep it in arm’s reach, but keeping her arms that elevated for long gave her cramps. Plus, she was pausing constantly to snack.

Jess found a wonderful solution one day while she was getting a backrub from her massage therapist. On her gaming days, she’d lie belly-down on her bed while completely naked. The controller would rest easy in her hands, and Jess’s body would be tilted slightly upwards to ease stress on her neck. She looked downright enormous while laying prone. While her belly was somewhat tucked away, it still sprawled out from her sides while she balanced the rest of her body on top of it. Her torso and ass grew like a crescendo, blocking most of the headboard. Her legs would straddle her lower stomach with her feet stuck in mid-air. Her tits would be comfortably tucked between her chin and her bed, like she was smuggling two body pillows.

Unless she had to talk, there was almost always a funnel pump in her mouth, feeding her a constant stream of weight gain shakes. A counter in the corner kept track of how many pints and calories she had consumed that session, but sometimes Jess’s body told the story better. After one extended gaming session, Jess had consumed two barrels of liquid, and Jess was practically rising like dough. After she had beaten the last boss on Dark Souls 3, she shouted in victory and gave a victory dance that mostly involved jiggling her arms and clapping her ass cheeks. All this “movement” threw Jess off balance off her bloated belly and lead her being bowled over to her left side.

Jess’s belly crawled out from beneath her and slowly toppled her torso to the edge of the bed. Her ass made such a touchdown it tipped a lamp to lean against the room’s snack fridge. Her own breasts slid out from her and spilled over the bed’s railing, their salami-sized areola mugging for camera time.

Jess rolled with it physically and verbally. “Woof! I’ve been cow-tipped. By my own belly! Guess I’ll have to punish it tomorrow by being EXTRA bad at dinnertime. What do you think about that, chat – aw damnit are my tits blocking the camera? Can you guys even see me? Ted!!!”


Sorry for the slowdown in the chapters, everybody. The story was done when I posted part 1, but I wanted to add a bit more detail to the new sections of the story.


Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
Convention Queen

A few months later, Jess was given a VIP invitation to the Tallahasee Sally BBQ convention. She would be a guest of honor, with the only stipulation being that she couldn’t compete in any of the eating contests. Instead, she would have her own booth space on the convention floor. Over the Friday-Sunday weekend, she would sit on her “throne” and gorge on an all-you-can-eat extravaganza of all the convention distributors’ food. People could also stop by for photos and autographs, but the real attraction was a carnival-style game. Every attendee could write down what they thought her weight would be at the end of the convention. The winner would be awarded $10,000. Jess was paid the same ahead of the time, and had to sign an NDA to keep her weight a secret two weeks before the convention

On the opening day, she was set up and raring to go. The organizers warned Jess to wear “modest and durable” clothing, so she wore a red-and-white checkered muu muu on her first day. She joked how most of the food would be set on her anyway, so she may as well look the part. She was correct, for the most part. Two convention tables flanked her, with two pitchers of sweet tea and water closest to her hands. Down the tables was food “donated” by the sponsors. Every hour the food and the banner would change to a new food company or distributor. Each sponsor had agreed to keep food on hand for Jess for the hour they bought; if she didn’t finish, she would have to move on to the next group and save the rest for leftovers.

She wouldn’t be doing much moving besides scheduled bathroom breaks and naps. She sat on a re-enforced steel bench seat, a replica from the one at our home dinner table. It was proper cushioned and could recline back for comfort. Two con volunteers would manage Jess’s food intake and clean up. All Jess had to do was point to a plate and they’d deliver it right to her.

Jess took to being a side show attraction like a duck to water. For Jess it was just another kind of live stream, and she knew how to handle that. She’d strike up small conversations with the crowd and when they’d respond, she’d down a quarter of one of her pitchers. She would wow them with her expert navigation eating an entire rotisserie chicken to its bones. She would guide ribs into mouth like a Fruit-by-the-Foot snack, chucking each dry bone into the garbage beside her. Fatty sections of ribeyes would get sucked away while holding the full steak in her hands.

Halfway through the day, I went over to check on Jess. Her assistants were keeping on top of things. One was changing the sponsor banner while another was storing away two cassaroles Jess didn’t get to. Reps from the next sponsor filled every newly opened space with a selection of summer meals: Eight different kinds of sausages in sesame buns, a dozen hamburgers, surf and turf kabobs, and an army of veggies and dipping sauces.

“How you doin’ hon?”

Jess wiped her face with a cloth napkin. “Mmmm I could have finished those two cassaroles but a few couples came in for a photo op. Some of the girls were real fat cuties.”

“Did you give them your card?”

“Of course, dear.” She began chugging a fresh pitcher of water.

It was then a familiar groan emanated from Jess’s stomach. It sat comfortably on the cold tiles and recoiled slightly. I knew what it meant from its “tone.” It wasn’t a sound of distress or even discomfort. It was hunger. It had been making that noise ever since Jess restricted her diet to 10,000 calories a day this week. All this food intake had re-awakened it, and Jess looked like she wanted to make up for lost time.

“Double my price for photos and autographs, Ted. If I’m going to have my meal time interrupted, people need to pony up.”

Jess didn’t have many leftovers in the latter half of the day. She was so full by the end that she needed four men to help her to her feet. In our hotel room, she laid back on queen sized bed that could barely contain her. She rested off a full belly while massaged her sore arms and shoulders. I asked her how she was feeling.

“I’m a queen being fed an unlimited supply of food by her subjects. How do you think I feel?” She sported a devilish smile. “No matter how much I complain tonight, I don’t want you to give me a crumb until I’m back at the convention.”

In the morning, our van was filled with the grumblings of her belly, but Jess kept up her discipline until she was seated. She went through six pitchers until the first platter was ready for her. Today she was sporting black leggings with a space galaxy pattern and a mini-parachute pink blouse. She had a three-foot diameter bib tied onto her with three sponsors stamped on it. That advertising was for naught, as it was soon covered in sauces and food scraps in less than an hour.

Jess ate with abandon. Where yesterday she was a chatty showman, here she was a gluttonous monster. She warned the assistants to always have food on deck for her, no matter how big the portions were. She ripped off strips of turkey legs in each hand and sucked them down with minimal chewing. She shaved through mountains of corn, running each cob through her teeth until her cheeks puffed out with all the kernels in her mouth. Then she’d gulp them all down in one go and grab the next one. Dozens of biscuits and cornbread were down in less than three bites.

On a bathroom break I asked her if she was even enjoying the food. She responded yes and was even making mental notes on future dishes to fill our pantries with. But she also knew this was likely a once in a lifetime deal – sponsors and the convention organizers would likely be scared off for next year – so she was going to make the best of it. She was going to eat everything.

I knew that was a ludicrous statement. With all the food at the convention, she could triple in size and not empty the place out. But by 2:50 pm, her first sponsor ran out of donated New York strips and baked potatoes. They had to move on to the next group early. Assistants were microwaving mixing bowls of chili as soon as it was properly heated. They threw mountains of corn bread and cold ham at her while new dishes were heated up.

Jess’s body did the only thing it knew how: Grow. Her leggings held, thankfully unconstrained by her monstrous gut. Her blouse only contained the top crest of her stomach as grumbled forward toward the banner that was held up by the two flanking tables. Ever since it made friends with the floor, it would take thousands of calories for Jess to feel any sense of fullness or constraint. Jess was a sight – her face often hidden by the heaping plates placed on her powerful breasts. People crowded to watch this eating machine that was competing with only her own appetite.

By 5pm, an open call went out to any distributor to donate food to my wife. The sponsor fee was waived; all that was required was that the food was cooked and fit to eat. Representatives put out entire free sample trays, and one gyro business put out an entire meat skewer for her. It was ten pounds of a cone of salted, spiced, lamb meat meant to be shaved off for gyros and sandwiches, and they heaved it on the unclothed portion of her chest, with the metal rod still in it. Jess ate it like corn on the cob, twirling it into her mouth to keep it balanced.

By 7pm, Jess was leaning back in her chair as far as her voluminous body would allow, alternatively huffing and drinking from her pitchers. She was rudy-faced and sweating, but more importantly she was waiting for more food. In the nick of time, a triple-rack of mesquite glazed ribs was delivered to her, almost tentatively.

“Finally,” she said and pulled the top rack from the tray. The ribs hung like a bandolier from her body as she tore the first bone off and sucked it dry. The ribs were fed into her like bullets into a machine gun. She complained about some weird pressure on the front of her stomach, but she continued unabated.

The pressure revealed itself into the second rack, when her stomach broke through her own banner, like it ran its own 5K. She had no idea (and wouldn’t have been able to see it anyway) until she finished the last rack and I told her what had happened. She had grown her own booth space and was now invading the walking area of the convention.

She burped. “That’s nice, dear,” was all she said before she looked eagerly for her next meal. She found it in a dozen corndogs that the concessions stand had donated to her. Each dog was downed in two bites.

By 8:30pm the organizers had put a stop to Jess’s feast. Sponsors were getting scared off by her size, and had thought they were contributing to a disaster by offering one more crumb to her. Heat emanated from her body, and every inch reverberated with shock to the vast amount of macronutrients she had shoved into her body. Dozens of videos were being uploaded to social media to showcase this spectacle of a woman, this gal with the bottomless gut. She was now “taller” from butt to belly than she was tall. If she could have talked, I knew she would be begging for more.

The last half hour was spent “cooling down,” with her drinking only pitchers of water while the assistants and I cleaned her off. Jess’s blouse was transformed into a reddish-brown mess of meaty detritus, and was practically transparent from all the spills and sweat. Her massive bra was easily visible, cotton and steel framed, doing its damndest to hold back the tidal wave of flesh within.


Active Member
Apr 17, 2008
Jess was so enlarged that I had to enact one of my contingency plans to get her back to the hotel: A specialized wheel chair. It was four hundred pounds of re-enforced steel. I kept it a secret from her in our preparations, since her mobility was a point of pride. She balked at it at first, but after a few failed attempts at getting up, she relented.

At the hotel, Jess was so fattened up that entering her first floor suite was an impossibility. Eventually, the staff allowed her to stay in an unused conference room; with its double-doors, it allowed her easy access. Two mattresses were placed along the wall with an army of pillows for support. As I massaged her distended gut, I realized her feet had disappeared. Jess was unperturbed when I told her, and simply burped periodically between moans.

Sunday was a shortened day of feasting, since her big weigh-in would happen at 1pm. She focused on desserts, much to the relief of former sponsors. She was wearing a golden tube top and black booty shorts for her last day, with the shorts barely holding in the central two-thirds of her ass. Everything placed in front of her was eaten in an effortless, assembly-line pace. There was no pained expression or frenetic hunger on her face. The battalion of cupcakes and fleets of pies and sheet cakes were her victory lap; she had nothing left to prove, to herself or her onlookers. Her belly was still incredibly distended from the last two days of eating, and she knew she could easily put on a few more pounds before her time was up.

By noon, the reps were insisting that she be wheeled over to the green room to prepare for the weigh-in. They were getting concerned comments from the attendees. Some complained that many of the vendors were out of free samples, and others were simply asking if Jess was a real person. After all, by 11am, her belly was beginning to invade the walking space from her own double-booth.

After a quick bathroom break, Jess was in her green room, seated in a couch. She took up all three cushions easily. Her rolls piled up over each other, catching the armrests and pushing her own arms up a few inches. Her own shoulders touched the lobes of her ears.

Carmen and Juanita came in soon after, wheeling in a plastic oil barrel and a tube from home. It contained 42 gallons of her latest weight gain shake – it was a mixture of whey, heavy cream, canola oil, lard, raw sugar, and water. It was strawberry flavored, one of Jess’s favorites. Each barrel could last Jess a week, but she insisted a full one have brought her on Sunday.

Jess perked up as soon as she saw them. “Oh thank you, guys. I was slacking a bit today. Don’t want to look emaciated on my big day!” She tickled the exposed underside of her breast and giggled.

Juanita gasped. “My goodness! You’re like a blimp! You’re bigger than couches now!”

Jess winked and scratched her belly. “Well, the couch at home is a bit bigger, I think. Set me up, Ted.”

We all knew that Jess couldn’t finish off a 42-gallon barrel of anything, but that was the point. In Jess’s words, she wanted to be as “puffed up” as possible for the adoring crowd. The tube was the most efficient, quick, and “fun” way to do that in her mind.

The tube was connected and Jess popped it into her eager mouth. She took an inhuman inhalation and started siphoning hundreds of calories. The liquid made an audible *FWIP* sound as it travelled to it.

The room was silent as we watched in awe of our eating machine. Jess stared ahead with intent, keeping relaxed so the fatty shake could rain down her throat unabated. Her stomach rumbled every moment or so as more and more liquid touched down and spread out inside her. It was like light thunder on a rainy day.

It took a lot these days to see Jess visibly grow before your eyes, but ten minutes into it, she was there. Her belly took a different tact to expansion than the previous days. There was about two persons’ worth of walking room between herself and the opposing wall, and almost on instinct it instead grew horizontally and vertically. It even began to fill in the sagging furrows of skin that connected her gut to the rest of her abdomen.

While the top of her stomach was “only” at the bottom of her chest, it looked like its own entity, pressing down and against her. It was as if her own gluttony had taken shape and was confronting her. Jess’s eyes became alert and she started tapping what she could reach of her sides.

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