~BHM, ~~WG, Feederism - The results of Lily's plan are starting to show
The weeks had gone by with only the slightest gains in Lily's efforts. Alex's 28-inch waist had always done well with 29-inch pants, and he hadn't yet gotten too big for them. His body had not gotten larger, it seemed to Lily, though when he ate more than his fair share (which he did at every meal) his belly was expanding to greater and greater size, if only temporarily.
Lily knew that poor Alex was being held captive by his metabolism - he didn't know it yet, she'd rationalized, but he'd be much happier fatter. Lily had gotten in the habit of conditioning Alex. Every time he stuffed, she rewarded him physically - a body rub, a blow job, or straight-up sex (he was almost always on bottom in these cases, and always lying down now). She'd slowly removed all incentive for him to work out - his running shoes turning up missing, his gym clothes conveniently sitting in the hamper. She liked to schedule couple's activities around gym buddies' normal hours.
Yet over a month of extremely high caloric intake, very little physical activity, and the use of weight gain shakes, he wasn't getting bigger. But Lily noticed a few benefits - though he'd always looked to be skin and bones, he'd had a nice thin layer of muscle tone to keep him looking hard. Now, his skinny arms were all softness and give, his flat abs bunched up when he sat, his formerly tight (if virtually nonexistent) ass had more give to it. Lily also noticed that when they sometimes wrestled in the bedroom, he was finding it harder and harder to win. She couldn't wait until he was nice and chubby, barely able to resist the attacks and advances of a much fitter girlfriend.
But for now, he was only skinny and soft. Every time they made love, she had to imagine him larger, and she was growing impatient for him to lose his metabolism and become the plump man she now wanted.
---------
"Honey, how do you feel about Chinese tonight?" Alex shrugged - with his appetite he was comfortable eating just about anything that tasted alright. And so it was that they found themselves at the Chinese buffet later that night, Lily taking back far too much of every dish and then over and over becoming too full for it or deciding she wanted more variety. Each plate in turn found its way to Alex, who ate with abandon.
"MSG...grease...too much sugar in the tea..." Lily made a mental note of the ingredients of each dish. She'd promised herself in the beginning that Alex's fattening would be only health food, but things had become direr. Now there was peanut butter slathered on everything, hamburgers, pizza, and plenty of fast food. She went for the things sure to mess with his system - the night before he'd pigged out on French fries dipped in Frosties, two double hamburgers, and a pizza that had supposedly been delivered to the wrong door. Afterwards he'd eaten a few (or more than a few) servings of ice cream with Lily and then moaned as she cradled his wounded belly. Tonight, she had done the same - with pork fried rice, pineapple fried rice, chicken chow mein, beef and broccoli, kung pao chicken, dish after dish shoveled into his mouth mindlessly in the careless eating of a high-metabolism male who'd just had his stomach stretched. His belly bulged rock hard over his pants far enough that he'd had to undo the button.
"I can't believe how much I'm eating these days."
"Oh, come on, like it could hurt you. You have the weirdest metabolism of anyone I know, it'll find a place to put that energy - promise." Lily assuaged him warmly as she read his body language. Ever since she'd moved on to the emergency phase two of gaining she'd been watching his body language. Did she catch him slumping more? Perhaps a self-deprecating comment or an hour spent staring at the wall? As the food got less healthy and his schedule remained erratic (as well as his sleep schedule - Lily's alarm more than once had "accidentally" gone off at the wrong time, totally warping his body rhythms), he became less able to cope. His energy level, and with it his excitement for life, plummeted as he sat around all day, working on the computer and absent-mindedly filling himself with the snacks that found their way to his desk. He slept at odd hours and became haggard. His emotions got the best of him, and he couldn't figure out why.
"Alex, I need to speak to you," she said one night.
"Why?" He spoke to her half-mindedly as he clicked away, entering code. She paused until he stopped to look at her.
"Alex, I know that you've been depressed from time to time, but lately it's taken over this house. I worry about you. I want you to be as happy as you deserve to be. It's happened over and over, it must be something chemical. I wish you'd get a prescription for some meds. Please. I love you, I want to see you glad."
When Lily saw him take his first anti-depressant, she told herself that making him temporarily unhappy in order to make him into the man she wanted was a necessary step. "He'll be glad once he realizes how much I love his bigger, fuller body."
---------
A month later, Lily took stock of her accomplishment. She'd swapped his 29s for 32s, his smalls for mediums as he complained that all his clothing had grown and that the tags were missing. When they made love she loved to press herself up against his softly protruding belly, feel the tiny mound of fat developing around his pecs, and squeeze his softening ass. He for his part seemed completely oblivious - after all, when you're not used to your weight ever changing, who are you to check on it?
His metabolism was finally starting to slow down because of the total lack of muscle tone to eat up energy, his decreased energy levels, and his greatly increased appetite - along with the effects of the anti-depressants Lily had persuaded him to take. He'd still not been out of his funk, though - he still felt sluggish all the time, his sleep schedule was still completely warped (caffeine and other stimulants in your dinner or dessert can do that to you sometimes), and he wanted to show Lily that he was committed to maintaining his own happiness.
"Lily, I wanted to thank you for talking to me last month. I know that I'm better when I'm happy, and that we're better when I'm happy. I think the meds are helping but the doctor's been recommending I take a higher dose."
Lily could barely contain herself. Part of her, deep down, too far to be heard fully, she felt dreadful for completely manipulating the man she loved the most. The guilt over changing his body, making him sluggish and dependent upon medication - her manipulation of him seemed far too much. But the wetness she felt upon his announcing the upped dosage overrode any buried conscience she may have had, and over the next few weeks she observed his weight climb. Were she not clever enough to switch his clothing at just the right time - his 32s went to 34s and then to 36s - she would have been able to enjoy the sight of his belly hanging over his pants, a muffin top of love handles, the start of flabby rolls when he sat. She could have watched his formerly loose sleeves constrict his soft arm fat, or gotten to witness him struggling to hop into his slender-cut jeans, gotten to see his whole body give a slight jiggle as he pulled harder and harder. Until she knew he'd gone past the point of no return, she knew she would have to forego those pleasures in order to make him the man she knew he could be.
But she got to steal glimpses at his soft pecs jiggling as he brushed his teeth. She made sure to place her hand around his belly when they snuggled, and made sure to grip his flabbier arms when she held him down as they made love (because, still she wanted to minimize all his movement, even if it meant restricting their positions). And while she had no way of measuring yet, she imagined he was on his way to a forty-pound gain.
When the next two weeks passed and she once again secretly changed his pants for 38s and his shirts for larges, she knew that she was going to have the man she'd always wanted. Soon, she promised herself, she'd let him outgrow a pair of jeans the natural, humiliating way. She couldn't wait to hear the number he'd scream in surprise when he jumped on a scale that fateful day.
The weeks had gone by with only the slightest gains in Lily's efforts. Alex's 28-inch waist had always done well with 29-inch pants, and he hadn't yet gotten too big for them. His body had not gotten larger, it seemed to Lily, though when he ate more than his fair share (which he did at every meal) his belly was expanding to greater and greater size, if only temporarily.
Lily knew that poor Alex was being held captive by his metabolism - he didn't know it yet, she'd rationalized, but he'd be much happier fatter. Lily had gotten in the habit of conditioning Alex. Every time he stuffed, she rewarded him physically - a body rub, a blow job, or straight-up sex (he was almost always on bottom in these cases, and always lying down now). She'd slowly removed all incentive for him to work out - his running shoes turning up missing, his gym clothes conveniently sitting in the hamper. She liked to schedule couple's activities around gym buddies' normal hours.
Yet over a month of extremely high caloric intake, very little physical activity, and the use of weight gain shakes, he wasn't getting bigger. But Lily noticed a few benefits - though he'd always looked to be skin and bones, he'd had a nice thin layer of muscle tone to keep him looking hard. Now, his skinny arms were all softness and give, his flat abs bunched up when he sat, his formerly tight (if virtually nonexistent) ass had more give to it. Lily also noticed that when they sometimes wrestled in the bedroom, he was finding it harder and harder to win. She couldn't wait until he was nice and chubby, barely able to resist the attacks and advances of a much fitter girlfriend.
But for now, he was only skinny and soft. Every time they made love, she had to imagine him larger, and she was growing impatient for him to lose his metabolism and become the plump man she now wanted.
---------
"Honey, how do you feel about Chinese tonight?" Alex shrugged - with his appetite he was comfortable eating just about anything that tasted alright. And so it was that they found themselves at the Chinese buffet later that night, Lily taking back far too much of every dish and then over and over becoming too full for it or deciding she wanted more variety. Each plate in turn found its way to Alex, who ate with abandon.
"MSG...grease...too much sugar in the tea..." Lily made a mental note of the ingredients of each dish. She'd promised herself in the beginning that Alex's fattening would be only health food, but things had become direr. Now there was peanut butter slathered on everything, hamburgers, pizza, and plenty of fast food. She went for the things sure to mess with his system - the night before he'd pigged out on French fries dipped in Frosties, two double hamburgers, and a pizza that had supposedly been delivered to the wrong door. Afterwards he'd eaten a few (or more than a few) servings of ice cream with Lily and then moaned as she cradled his wounded belly. Tonight, she had done the same - with pork fried rice, pineapple fried rice, chicken chow mein, beef and broccoli, kung pao chicken, dish after dish shoveled into his mouth mindlessly in the careless eating of a high-metabolism male who'd just had his stomach stretched. His belly bulged rock hard over his pants far enough that he'd had to undo the button.
"I can't believe how much I'm eating these days."
"Oh, come on, like it could hurt you. You have the weirdest metabolism of anyone I know, it'll find a place to put that energy - promise." Lily assuaged him warmly as she read his body language. Ever since she'd moved on to the emergency phase two of gaining she'd been watching his body language. Did she catch him slumping more? Perhaps a self-deprecating comment or an hour spent staring at the wall? As the food got less healthy and his schedule remained erratic (as well as his sleep schedule - Lily's alarm more than once had "accidentally" gone off at the wrong time, totally warping his body rhythms), he became less able to cope. His energy level, and with it his excitement for life, plummeted as he sat around all day, working on the computer and absent-mindedly filling himself with the snacks that found their way to his desk. He slept at odd hours and became haggard. His emotions got the best of him, and he couldn't figure out why.
"Alex, I need to speak to you," she said one night.
"Why?" He spoke to her half-mindedly as he clicked away, entering code. She paused until he stopped to look at her.
"Alex, I know that you've been depressed from time to time, but lately it's taken over this house. I worry about you. I want you to be as happy as you deserve to be. It's happened over and over, it must be something chemical. I wish you'd get a prescription for some meds. Please. I love you, I want to see you glad."
When Lily saw him take his first anti-depressant, she told herself that making him temporarily unhappy in order to make him into the man she wanted was a necessary step. "He'll be glad once he realizes how much I love his bigger, fuller body."
---------
A month later, Lily took stock of her accomplishment. She'd swapped his 29s for 32s, his smalls for mediums as he complained that all his clothing had grown and that the tags were missing. When they made love she loved to press herself up against his softly protruding belly, feel the tiny mound of fat developing around his pecs, and squeeze his softening ass. He for his part seemed completely oblivious - after all, when you're not used to your weight ever changing, who are you to check on it?
His metabolism was finally starting to slow down because of the total lack of muscle tone to eat up energy, his decreased energy levels, and his greatly increased appetite - along with the effects of the anti-depressants Lily had persuaded him to take. He'd still not been out of his funk, though - he still felt sluggish all the time, his sleep schedule was still completely warped (caffeine and other stimulants in your dinner or dessert can do that to you sometimes), and he wanted to show Lily that he was committed to maintaining his own happiness.
"Lily, I wanted to thank you for talking to me last month. I know that I'm better when I'm happy, and that we're better when I'm happy. I think the meds are helping but the doctor's been recommending I take a higher dose."
Lily could barely contain herself. Part of her, deep down, too far to be heard fully, she felt dreadful for completely manipulating the man she loved the most. The guilt over changing his body, making him sluggish and dependent upon medication - her manipulation of him seemed far too much. But the wetness she felt upon his announcing the upped dosage overrode any buried conscience she may have had, and over the next few weeks she observed his weight climb. Were she not clever enough to switch his clothing at just the right time - his 32s went to 34s and then to 36s - she would have been able to enjoy the sight of his belly hanging over his pants, a muffin top of love handles, the start of flabby rolls when he sat. She could have watched his formerly loose sleeves constrict his soft arm fat, or gotten to witness him struggling to hop into his slender-cut jeans, gotten to see his whole body give a slight jiggle as he pulled harder and harder. Until she knew he'd gone past the point of no return, she knew she would have to forego those pleasures in order to make him the man she knew he could be.
But she got to steal glimpses at his soft pecs jiggling as he brushed his teeth. She made sure to place her hand around his belly when they snuggled, and made sure to grip his flabbier arms when she held him down as they made love (because, still she wanted to minimize all his movement, even if it meant restricting their positions). And while she had no way of measuring yet, she imagined he was on his way to a forty-pound gain.
When the next two weeks passed and she once again secretly changed his pants for 38s and his shirts for larges, she knew that she was going to have the man she'd always wanted. Soon, she promised herself, she'd let him outgrow a pair of jeans the natural, humiliating way. She couldn't wait to hear the number he'd scream in surprise when he jumped on a scale that fateful day.
