BHM Joel's Revelation: a Tale in 10 Parts - by ffaboots (~BHM, ~FFA, ~XWG, ~Sex)

Discussion in 'BHM/Both Weight Fiction Archive' started by ffaboots, Jun 16, 2012.

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  1. Jun 16, 2012 #1

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    ~BHM, ~FFA, ~XWG, ~Sex, After overhearing an admission by his wife, a man is inspired to live differently.

    Joel's Revelation: a Tale in 10 Parts
    by ffaboots

    1. Joel

    My dear, lovely wife Sarah had been taking guitar lessons for months and I was pleasantly surprised by her ardor for the instrument--she never missed a lesson, and spent hours each night picking out chords, strumming away, singing under her breath. It hadn't occurred to me that the draw wasn't so much the music as the teacher. That is, until I overheard a conversation one day between she and her sister Rebecca, who was visiting from Denver.

    Rebecca is very blunt and loud, and it gets on my nerves. So that day when she and Sarah came home from shopping, I hid in my basement study, hoping they would assume I was out. But after a few minutes I heard the pop of a wine cork. Realizing it would be a long, boozy, giggly afternoon, I decided to sneak out to the garage without either of them hearing me. I tiptoed up the stairs and could overhear them chatting.

    "So, are you still taking guitar lessons with the sexy beast?" Rebecca asked. I stopped in my tracks--I'd met Sarah's teacher once and he was an elephantine, red-bearded, barrel-chested guy named Zach. Surely that wasn't who they were talking about. That guy was so big he was like three of me tied together.

    Sarah giggled. "Oh yeah. I don't know if I'm getting any better, but he sure does make a good muse. I mean, I'd never do anything about it of course..." she trailed off wistfully.

    "Of course, but you can look, you're not dead!" Rebecca said, and I heard them clink glasses in assent.

    "So..." Rebecca continued with a sly edge to her voice, "How fat IS he?"

    Sarah gasped. "Huge. But how did you know?"

    "Oh come on, Sarah, what am I, blind?" Rebecca hooted. "Every boyfriend you ever had before Joel was--let's be honest--immense. And remember that rugby guy I dated who gained 50 pounds in the off-season? You took that breakup harder than I did! You, little sister, are a chubby chaser."

    "Ugh, I hate that term," Sarah groaned. "It's so glib and stupid."

    Rebecca sipped her wine. "Didn't you tell me Joel used to be fat at one time, before you met?"

    "Yeah, as a teenager. I always hoped that part of him might...y'know, reassert itself, but leave it to me to marry the one ex-fatty who never backslides," Sarah muttered, and I heard her pour another glass of wine.

    Rebecca snorted with laughter. "No, leave it to you to marry a guy who looks like Cary Grant and treats you like a queen, and bitch because he isn't fat enough for you."

    "I know, I know," Sarah said ruefully. "What do I have to complain about? He's wonderful. It's just that I've always liked a man with...appetites."
     
  2. Jun 16, 2012 #2

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    2. Sarah

    Some would say I should have just gotten another guitar teacher. They'd say the second I opened the door to that tiny room in the back of the music store and saw Zach's pillowy stomach resting on his knees, I should have recognized the temptation and left. But instead I fell headlong into a serious crush.

    Maybe it was inevitable because he looked nothing like my husband Joel, who was a tall, slim workout nut. Joel is disciplined, old-school handsome, he adores me, and we get along extremely well. I simply never brought up that he wasn't exactly my physical "type" for fear of seeming shallow or belittling his strict diet and workout regimen--it seemed so important to him.

    My penance for this deception was the abundance of beautiful, huge men I encountered everywhere--at work, on the street, in church, while shopping, they'd stroll by, all rolling breasts and bellies and thighs and I couldn't touch them. Maddening.

    So you can imagine what went through my head when I walked into that music school and saw Zach, idly tuning a guitar that failed to hide his almost-spherical torso. Although I knew it was wrong, I was absurdly attracted to him; I wanted him to drop his guitar, pin me against a wall with his weight, and kiss me. Once after a particularly good lesson he hugged me, and I wanted to sink into his cushiony embrace for hours.
     
  3. Jun 16, 2012 #3

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    3. Joel

    If you saw my training log, you'd know how hard I worked to stay thin. Cardio every day, weightlifting, an exceedingly strict diet that started with black coffee in the morning and ended with a single piece of fruit at night. It was grueling but it seemed like every voice around me said that if you were a formerly-fat person, you had no choice.

    But that overheard conversation between Sarah and Rebecca haunted me for weeks. I took a long look at the woman I'd married and all of a sudden, things started to click into place: her internet search history (sprinkled with puzzling terms like "SSBHM" and "belly play"), the ponderous men she stared at when she thought I wasn't looking, character actors she liked, her way of pressing homemade baked goods on everyone, and dozens of other tiny clues made her preference head-slappingly obvious. I frankly felt like an idiot for not realizing it before.

    And every time she left the house to go to a guitar lesson I noticed how her eyes sparkled, and I burned with jealousy. For a while I considered asking her to switch teachers, but when I thought about it more, that wasn't the real issue.

    At some point a split-screen vision appeared in my head: on one side, me leaving our warm bed at 5:30 AM to go to the gym, and on the other, Sarah and I snuggled together on the couch while she fed me fresh-baked cookies. All of a sudden, the solution seemed both obvious and elegant, and it flooded me with happy, nervous excitement. I sat down and made a list of every food I had longed for and not eaten for over a decade.

    I inaugurated the project by bringing a gallon of vanilla ice cream and all the toppings for a sundae into the living room, and sat on the couch where Sarah could see me from her practice area. I opened the ice cream, covered it with toppings, and ate until they, and the top layer of ice cream, were gone. Then I added toppings again and ate the next layer. I could gauge Sarah's reaction by her playing, which was full of dropped notes and too-long pauses, and I was giddily positive she was distracted by my pig-out. Finally--I assume she couldn't stand it any more--she blurted, "You're eating ice cream?"

    "Yes," I replied through a mouthful of hot fudge. "I just had this...craving."
     
  4. Jun 16, 2012 #4

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    4 - Sarah

    He just had this craving, he said. He claimed to have hurt his back and stopped going to the gym. "Temporarily," he evaded, but weeks and weeks went by and his gym bag gathered dust by the door. And what's weirder, he started having little--well, no, huge--picnics in front of the TV while I was practicing (practicing horribly, I might add, since I was completely distracted watching him gobble a growing array of desserts).

    When we ate dinners together he seemed ravenous and asked sweetly for thirds and fourths of everything, so I cooked more and made the portions bigger. He started doing our grocery shopping and things I wasn't used to appeared in our kitchen--butter, sugar, flour, and items he called "goodies," which could mean anything from bacon to a giant sampler of chocolates.

    And I loved the change, but I didn't say a word for fear that he'd get spooked and run back to steamed veggies and the treadmill. He was still relatively thin, but a telltale paunch started to form and sometimes as I watched him sleep, I'd look at his body to see if I could see him growing bigger. It's hard to tell when you see someone all the time.

    One day, after all this had been going on for a few months, my car started to have issues so I borrowed Joel's SUV. I climbed in and smelled fast food, and realized the floor of the back seat was covered with empty wrappers from different burger, taco, and pizza joints. I opened the glove compartment and a waterfall of chocolate bars fell out, along with a notebook, labeled "training log." Out of curiosity, I opened it to the most recent entry, assuming it would be from when he was still working out.

    My jaw dropped. His last entry was from the previous day. A list of foods that would make a glutton blush, plus calorie counts, plus his current weight: 203. I flipped backward and there were measurements, weights, progress pictures--he had put on about 50 pounds in the past few months, a number that made my stomach flip. He seemed to be purposely gaining weight. For me?

    My heart thudded in my chest and my pussy grew wet. I replaced everything in the glove compartment, unbuttoned my jeans, slid one hand into my panties, and rubbed my clit while thinking of Joel's potential, how big he could be in a year, two years, five years. I'd seen pictures of him from high school, so I knew he could eat.
     
  5. Jun 16, 2012 #5

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    5 - Joel

    "Zach who?" I celebrated to myself while standing on the scale. I was up to 296, and incredibly pleased with my burgeoning corpulence. I snapped a picture for my training log and marveled that while once upon a time I had hated having breasts, a spare tire hanging well over my waistband, and a growing flabbiness about my arms and legs, I now felt like a sex god. I had put on almost 150 pounds. Although she still went to guitar lessons occasionally, Sarah spent much less time practicing and more time cooking for me and making her appreciation for my growing body obvious. Before I started gaining, we'd fallen into something of a sex rut. Now that she was following the swaying of my ever-softer, ever-wider ass up the stairs every night, Sarah wanted me all the time.

    The funny thing is that neither of us acknowledged what was happening outright. Somewhere along the line we'd both grown used to speaking in looks, in implications, in code. It was a game, to see how far we could push it.

    One evening close to my birthday, we were sitting in front of the TV and I was washing down a bag of chips with a pitcher of milkshake. Sarah cleared her throat. "Joel, what size are you?" she asked, her voice studiously casual.

    "Why do you ask?" I volleyed.

    She looked bemused. "Because I was hoping to buy you some clothes for your birthday, but I wasn't sure if the sizes I bought you last year would fit." Last year's pants wouldn't make it past my thighs and she knew it.

    "Well, I have put on a couple pounds," I drastically understated. "Maybe you should measure me and see."

    Sarah's eyes got huge. She scrambled to find a tape measure. When she returned, I stood up but kept shoveling handfuls of chip crumbs into my mouth as she pulled the tape measure around my waist. For a second I wasn't sure it would make it, but the ends just barely lapped. "58," she cooed, smiling from ear to ear as she wound the tape measure.

    I swallowed. I hadn't taken measurements in a while, and realizing that I'd added 20-some inches to my waist in the last couple years was a shock. "Huh. What waist size did you buy last year?"

    "Um...46?" she guessed.

    "Ah," I sputtered, "In that case, maybe get something that leaves me some room to grow."

    "And a second tape measure too, I imagine," she mused.

    It wasn't long before we were upstairs in bed. Just before I entered her, I made a point of lifting my belly out of the way, and she gasped with delight.
     
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  6. Jun 16, 2012 #6

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    Part 6 - Sarah

    One Christmas, a couple years after Joel started gaining, we flew to Denver to visit my sister Rebecca, her husband Phil, and my nieces for a few days. Rebecca hadn't seen Joel since he was still thin and I was dying to hear what she'd say when she opened the door Christmas Eve and saw him, pushing 350 pounds and gloriously rotund. But other than a quick look of surprise, her reaction was pretty muted. Little did I know she was saving it up for when we were alone.

    After Christmas dinner Rebecca was washing dishes and I was drying. We worked in silence until she grinned and teasingly said, "Oh, P.S., have I mentioned that I hate you?"

    I guffawed. "What?" I said, mock-innocent.

    "Um, how is your life so charmed? You got the good hair, good skin, great job, and the only fly in the ointment was that your super-handsome, sweet husband was too fit. POOR YOU." She mimed playing the world's smallest violin and I collapsed in a fit of giggles. "And then you show up this year and he's fat enough to play Santa without any padding. You know he ate so much at dinner that I have no leftovers? Also, that sweater we bought him is about a zillion sizes too small." She flicked dishwater at me, pretend-annoyed.

    I blushed and ducked my head. "Soooooorry."

    She pursed her lips and looked at me. "So...I mean, it's not my thing, but...are you happy?"

    "Deliriously," I gushed. "I honestly can't keep my hands off him--"

    "So I noticed!!" she yelled. "That guest bed you're sleeping on is very squeaky. I had to tell the girls some outrageous lie that you two were wrapping presents when they asked about all the noise!" I clapped a hand to my mouth as the previous night flashed through my mind--I had gotten so turned on watching Joel finish off cookies and eggnog that I pounced on him, riding his cock vigorously as he begged me to be gentle with his very big, very full belly. The squeaky bed hadn't even occurred to me.

    "Becca, I'm so sorry! Why didn't you ever tell me about the bed before?" I exclaimed.

    A furtive smile crossed her face. "Well, Sarah, you weren't such a crazed animal before, it wasn't an issue." She took the dish towel out of my hands. "Oh, now I feel like a bad host. Go have fun. I'll get the girls to watch a movie and turn it up REAL loud."

    She might have been kidding, but I wasn't about to turn down that offer. Later, as Joel skillfully fingered me while I kneaded his blubbery belly with one hand, I bit my lips to keep from squealing with joy.
     
  7. Jun 16, 2012 #7

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    Part 7 - Joel

    While I did enjoy the flirtatious quality of how we hadn't directly addressed my deliberate weight gain, our little games and evasions, I was dying to have it out in the open. I wanted to know when she put two and two together, and wanted to be free to brag to her about exactly how big I'd gotten. And then, like magic, the opportunity presented itself.

    One night we were discussing what to have for dinner. "I have a craving for tacos," I mused.

    "You just had tacos yesterday, you must have a thing about them this week," she said offhandedly, and a bell went off in my head. I'd snuck through the Taco Bell drive-through while running errands and never told her about it, so how did she know? I hadn't told anyone except...

    And then the clouds parted: of course. The training log. No wonder she didn't ask more questions! That sly minx had all the information she wanted. God, how many times she must have paged through that little book when I wasn't around!

    The next morning I thought about it and lazed in bed while she took a shower. I heard the telltale sound of the shower head switching from "rainfall" to "pulse," which only ever meant one naughty thing...the lady of the house was pleasuring herself.

    Inspiration struck, and I grabbed the training log out of my bedside drawer. I ambled to the bathroom, opened the shower door, pressed my lips to her ear, and recited: "Breakfast: six-egg omelet with cheese, bacon, three bananas, pitcher of orange juice. Mid-morning snack: five donuts. Lunch: Foot-long sub, family-size bag of chips, two liters of soda. Afternoon snack: One pan of brownies with milk. Dinner: Two steaks, one mixing bowl of mashed potatoes with gravy, one bottle of red wine. Dessert: One cheesecake." Her breathing was fast and shallow, and the hand pointing the shower head at her clitoris worked busily.

    "Weight," I continued, "414 pounds." She threw her head back and a high, sweet noise escaped her as she came. Eventually she exhaled, shook her head, and smiled broadly at me.

    "Busted," she conceded. "Get in here, if there's room for you," she growled, grabbing one of my love handles.
     
  8. Jun 16, 2012 #8

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    Part 8 - Sarah

    "Are you having an affair?" my co-worker Tina asked me point blank, over lunch in the cafeteria.

    "No! Good lord, did someone tell you I was?" I was stunned.

    Tina narrowed her eyes. "You float around the office humming all day, your skin's glowing, and you're all short skirts and high heels like you wanna impress someone. If it's not an affair, tell me what it is, cause I want some!"

    I don't even recall what I said in response--I'm sure it was lame and unconvincing. But I took her point. I'd been in a lust-fog for months, especially since Joel and I had begun to talk openly about his weight gain and how it excited me. I'd had no idea what delights we were missing before--he had a story for me every day that pointed up how much bigger he was, like trying to squeeze his vast bottom into a chair at the barbershop, or realizing his "fat pants" from a few months ago would no longer button or zip.

    For my part, I was thrilled to get to tell him every day how gorgeous he'd grown. I loved to sing the praises of his belly, which hung to mid-thigh as he rounded the corner of 500 pounds and kept packing on weight. He let me carry his training log around with me, because when I looked at his progress pictures and saw him inflate from an ordinary thin guy to a man so breathtakingly corpulent that people stared as he waddled down the street, I wanted him more than ever.

    I'm sure our circle of friends didn't know what to think. They were too polite to mention that Joel had gotten so out of shape he could hardly walk from the car to someone's front door without being too winded to speak. Even when we were at a friend's house and Joel's chair splintered beneath him when he sat on it, the hostess simply mumbled "Oh, these chairs are no good," discreetly not mentioning that Joel weighed double their maximum capacity. The incident didn't faze Joel anyway--once seated on something sturdier he proceeded to eat more than the rest of us combined, and I loved that he would be such a pig in front of our friends.

    Sometimes at those dinner parties, if we were on a less-visible side of the table, he'd quietly unzip his pants, let his belly flow out, and place my hand on it to feel how full he was. On those nights I'd make any excuse to leave just after dessert, because it was either that or say the hell with propriety and just do him under the dining room table.
     
  9. Jun 16, 2012 #9

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    Part 9 - Joel

    I ran into my old trainer at Starbucks. We'd always had a good relationship; he had also lost a lot of weight as a kid, and we used to bond over the difficulty of keeping it off and how much it sucked to eat rabbit food all the time. Since I stopped working out with him, we had exchanged some hey-how-are-you emails and I alluded to gaining some weight, but didn't exactly come out and say, "Yeah, I'm almost 550 pounds and the only exercise I get is shoveling food in my mouth and getting tackled a couple times a day by my extremely amorous wife." So I was amazed he recognized me but sure enough, I turned around with my extra-large mochaccino and he exclaimed, "Joel??"

    "Trevor! How's it going?" I said uneasily. He looked like a P90X model and of course I'd worn a shirt that was too small and clung to my rolls upon rolls of belly and back fat. I realized I had more than tripled in size since I saw him last. We both sat down at a table outside, and I was conscious of my ass substantially overflowing my chair.

    "Jesus, dude, I'd heard rumors you got big, but I had no idea," he shook his head. "What happened?"

    He and I had been close before, and I'd been dying to brag to another guy about all this, so out it came. "You won't believe this, but my wife asked me to stop dieting and working out. Turns out she prefers me...chubby." Trevor cocked an eyebrow. "Okay, whalelike," I conceded, laughing.

    His breath came out in a sharp burst. "You lucky bastard! I thought women like that were an urban legend, and you married one?" He shook his head. "God I'm jealous. And she lets you eat whatever you want?"

    "Dude." I leaned in to him as much as my bulk would allow. "Not just that, she makes it for me. The other night, she made me something she called cake soup. You know what that is? It's a gallon of ice cream and a cake, whipped together in a mixer until it's like...well, soup. And then she fed it to me, and then..." I sat back, put my hands behind my head, and let him draw his own conclusions about what delightful thing Sarah had done to me next.

    He shook his head in wonder. "I shouldn't say this, and if you repeat it to anyone at the gym I'll deny it, but you're livin' the dream, man. Have a slice of pizza for me." As he walked to his car, I snickered to myself at the idea of eating just one slice of pizza. That poor guy.
     
  10. Jun 16, 2012 #10

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    Part 10 - Sarah

    Toward the end of my most recent lesson, I strummed the last chord of "Eleanor Rigby," looked at the clock, and realized I needed to get a couple batches of cream puffs in the oven if I wanted to feed them to Joel before dinner, which I very much did. "Zach, can we cut this a little short? I just realized I need to get home and get something in the oven."

    "Sure," Zach agreed, putting down his guitar. "Hey, did Joel tell you I saw him a few weeks ago at 7-11?"

    That had to have been a shock--Zach hadn't seen Joel in over two years, and at the time Joel had been a comparatively svelte 380 pounds. "Oh! He didn't mention it."

    "I almost didn't recognize him! He's really gotten..." Zach trailed off politely.

    "Uh, I think humongous is the word you're looking for," I giggled. "Yeah, you might say he fell off his diet and never looked back."

    "We had a weird conversation, though." Zach's brow furrowed. "You know, there was the usual hey, how's it going, nice weather, blah blah blah, and then he asked me how much I weigh."

    "Oh?" I froze.

    "I hardly ever tell anyone, but I figured he wasn't exactly in a position to be judgy--no offense--so I told him..." he dropped his voice, "440, you know? And then he kinda chuckled and said, 'Well, I guess I win', and he left. What was that about?"

    I smiled and shook my head. Joel had gained an entire Zach, and then some. To my complete ecstasy, there was just over 600 pounds of Joel waddling from bed, to fridge, to bed these days.

    "I have no idea," I lied.
     
  11. Jun 16, 2012 #11

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    Mesmerizing.
     
  12. Jun 17, 2012 #12

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    Truely awesome!
     
  13. Jun 18, 2012 #13

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    That was pure fun--thank you!
     
  14. Jun 18, 2012 #14

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    You are a genius! This was a fantastic read. Many thanks!
     
  15. Jun 19, 2012 #15

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    Brilliant story one of the best i have read in a long time.

    Makes me want to finish my stories and start some new ones!!
     
  16. Jun 19, 2012 #16

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    Very nice! Great work! The pacing was excellent, the characters believable and consistent, and the gaining was a whole lot of fun!

    Thank you for posting this!
    Benda\
     
  17. Jun 19, 2012 #17

    jim austin

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    Wow what a great story one of the best here and that is saying something. Hope you write some more. Really nicely paced and reflected both characters superbly. Thank You
     
  18. Jun 21, 2012 #18

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    Thank you all so much for the lovely, thoughtful comments--I did a ton of revision on this one, so it's really nice to hear other people got something out of it.
     
  19. Jun 21, 2012 #19

    Madeline Maple

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    What a great story, ffaboots. Two things I liked best. First, the fact that you expertly represented the often silent hopes that a partner would gain. Second, the wonderful flow to part 8 where the wife is delightfully in love. Well done!

    -MM
     
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  20. Jun 21, 2012 #20

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    I keep coming back to this story! Absolutely LOVE it!!
     

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