~BHM, ~FFA, Feeding, ~Sex, ~XWG, A man meets an unconventional dietitian.
Tonight
Philip sits in the chair (the only one that will reliably support his weight anymore), his legs open to let his belly hang down between them. He can hear Nora in the kitchen, opening the pantry, opening the fridge, tearing packages and pouring things. He knows whatever she has in mind for tonight must be a showstopper, she's had a manic gleam in her eye since she got home. "What are you doing in there?"
"Never you mind," she calls back, and he begins to get nervous. Maybe he shouldn't have let her tie him to the chair. He tests the restraints and they press deep into his blubbery forearms. He smiles at how unnecessary they are--he can't get up from this chair without her help anyway. And this is his Nora; she wouldn't actually hurt him. Philip thinks back to the first day they met. Back when he was a mere 260 pounds and actually trying to lose weight.
Eight years ago
In the lobby of the building where she officed, Philip looked over the plaque of names until he saw it--Nora Bauer, Registered Dietitian. He was sweaty and cursing the 15th day of hundred-plus-degree temperatures that August. Fricking Texas. At least her office was private, he thought, stabbing at the elevator button. He'd only have to reveal his weight to one person.
Upstairs, he walked to the door of Suite 615, opened it, and immediately saw something incredible--this perfect, huge, round ass bent over the front desk, a tight pencil skirt hugging every inch of it. He enjoyed the view for a moment and then fake-coughed to alert her to his presence.
"I know you're there," said the woman's muffled voice. "Are you Philip?"
Philip struggled not to laugh. "Yes, ma'am."
She straightened up, triumphantly holding a zip drive in one hand, and flipped her hair back, pink with exertion. "Well, welcome," she breathed, and Philip forgot about laughing. She was steamroller cute. Just dumbfoundingly cute. Silky dark hair, perfect little mouth, huge tits and a belly he wanted to sink both of his hands into and never let go. It was a sin for a fat chick this hot to work the front desk at a dietitian's office. Instead, she should be...well, a dozen filthy possibilities raced through his mind.
Philip wasn't sure how long he stood staring before she stepped forward and extended her hand. "I'm Nora. Great to meet you finally." As they shook hands, she smiled as if she knew a secret about him.
"Oh! Oh you're..." he blinked and cursed his mouth for suddenly going so dry.
"Yup," she grabbed a clipboard. "My assistant's at lunch, so it's just me. Let's go to my office."
It wasn't bad at all. When he heard "dietitian," Philip had expected someone with ropy muscles who'd lecture him about eating slowly and only in impossibly tiny portion sizes. Instead, he and Nora talked for a while about his food preferences, and his lifestyle. Easy, comfortable, pleasant.
At one point he got curious about her own size. "It's interesting that you're not..." he started, then realized he might be overstepping.
"...Thin?" Nora finished, then shrugged. "Makes me more relatable, don't you think? Wouldn't you just tune me out if didn't know what it was like to try to lose weight? Or does it bother you?" she said, studying him for a moment.
"Oh, no, not at all! You're..." he tried and failed to think of an adjective other than "super hot." "You look very nice. And, as you said, relatable."
"Mmm-hmm," she said, but turned away so he couldn't see her expression. She pulled a tupperware container of cookies out of her bag. "Hey, will you eat a couple of these?" she asked, pushing the container toward him with her index finger.
He squinted at her. "Is this a test?"
Nora laughed. "No! God no. Well, it's a test to see if they're any good, I'm trying a new recipe."
He politely took one and they were delectable. He instantly wanted more. "They're excellent."
"You can't tell from just one! Seriously, take as many as you want, take the whole container, you'll be doing me a favor." She was so warm and genuine as they continued to chat that he forgot himself and did wind up finishing them all.
At the end of the half-hour Nora scribbled something on a pad, ripped off the top sheet, folded it, and handed it over.
"Should I...?" he asked, starting to unfold it.
"Wait until you leave, I don't want you to fight me on it. But that's your 'prescription,' as it were. I'm...unconventional about this, you'll have to trust me." She escorted him to the door. "See you next week."
Philip didn't even wait until he got to the elevator before he unfolded the paper, which said, "Eat whatever you want, whenever you want. Really." Unconventional is right, he thought.
Nora's Machine
by ffaboots
by ffaboots
Tonight
Philip sits in the chair (the only one that will reliably support his weight anymore), his legs open to let his belly hang down between them. He can hear Nora in the kitchen, opening the pantry, opening the fridge, tearing packages and pouring things. He knows whatever she has in mind for tonight must be a showstopper, she's had a manic gleam in her eye since she got home. "What are you doing in there?"
"Never you mind," she calls back, and he begins to get nervous. Maybe he shouldn't have let her tie him to the chair. He tests the restraints and they press deep into his blubbery forearms. He smiles at how unnecessary they are--he can't get up from this chair without her help anyway. And this is his Nora; she wouldn't actually hurt him. Philip thinks back to the first day they met. Back when he was a mere 260 pounds and actually trying to lose weight.
Eight years ago
In the lobby of the building where she officed, Philip looked over the plaque of names until he saw it--Nora Bauer, Registered Dietitian. He was sweaty and cursing the 15th day of hundred-plus-degree temperatures that August. Fricking Texas. At least her office was private, he thought, stabbing at the elevator button. He'd only have to reveal his weight to one person.
Upstairs, he walked to the door of Suite 615, opened it, and immediately saw something incredible--this perfect, huge, round ass bent over the front desk, a tight pencil skirt hugging every inch of it. He enjoyed the view for a moment and then fake-coughed to alert her to his presence.
"I know you're there," said the woman's muffled voice. "Are you Philip?"
Philip struggled not to laugh. "Yes, ma'am."
She straightened up, triumphantly holding a zip drive in one hand, and flipped her hair back, pink with exertion. "Well, welcome," she breathed, and Philip forgot about laughing. She was steamroller cute. Just dumbfoundingly cute. Silky dark hair, perfect little mouth, huge tits and a belly he wanted to sink both of his hands into and never let go. It was a sin for a fat chick this hot to work the front desk at a dietitian's office. Instead, she should be...well, a dozen filthy possibilities raced through his mind.
Philip wasn't sure how long he stood staring before she stepped forward and extended her hand. "I'm Nora. Great to meet you finally." As they shook hands, she smiled as if she knew a secret about him.
"Oh! Oh you're..." he blinked and cursed his mouth for suddenly going so dry.
"Yup," she grabbed a clipboard. "My assistant's at lunch, so it's just me. Let's go to my office."
It wasn't bad at all. When he heard "dietitian," Philip had expected someone with ropy muscles who'd lecture him about eating slowly and only in impossibly tiny portion sizes. Instead, he and Nora talked for a while about his food preferences, and his lifestyle. Easy, comfortable, pleasant.
At one point he got curious about her own size. "It's interesting that you're not..." he started, then realized he might be overstepping.
"...Thin?" Nora finished, then shrugged. "Makes me more relatable, don't you think? Wouldn't you just tune me out if didn't know what it was like to try to lose weight? Or does it bother you?" she said, studying him for a moment.
"Oh, no, not at all! You're..." he tried and failed to think of an adjective other than "super hot." "You look very nice. And, as you said, relatable."
"Mmm-hmm," she said, but turned away so he couldn't see her expression. She pulled a tupperware container of cookies out of her bag. "Hey, will you eat a couple of these?" she asked, pushing the container toward him with her index finger.
He squinted at her. "Is this a test?"
Nora laughed. "No! God no. Well, it's a test to see if they're any good, I'm trying a new recipe."
He politely took one and they were delectable. He instantly wanted more. "They're excellent."
"You can't tell from just one! Seriously, take as many as you want, take the whole container, you'll be doing me a favor." She was so warm and genuine as they continued to chat that he forgot himself and did wind up finishing them all.
At the end of the half-hour Nora scribbled something on a pad, ripped off the top sheet, folded it, and handed it over.
"Should I...?" he asked, starting to unfold it.
"Wait until you leave, I don't want you to fight me on it. But that's your 'prescription,' as it were. I'm...unconventional about this, you'll have to trust me." She escorted him to the door. "See you next week."
Philip didn't even wait until he got to the elevator before he unfolded the paper, which said, "Eat whatever you want, whenever you want. Really." Unconventional is right, he thought.
