BHM The 6 Month Deal (~BHM, ~WG, Stuffing)

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Well-Known Member
Jun 2, 2010
~BHM, ~WG, Stuffing - Darren and his wife Vanessa make a bet, the consequences of which could have a lasting impact on at least one of their waistlines.

The 6 Month Deal
by snr6424

Chapter 1

“So what do you say, slim? Think you can do it for six months?” she grinned, jabbing my flat, firm stomach.

I narrowed my eyes at her, trying to evaluate the challenge. On the one hand, it could possibly lead to the fulfillment of my wildest sexual fantasy. On the other hand . . . the way she was grinning at me made me think that maybe this wasn’t a smart move.

Vanessa and I had been married about four months. During the early days of our dating, it came out that we were both feeders. For those of you unfamiliar with the term/concept, we enjoyed feeding and fattening up those of the opposite sex. We did a lot of talking about it, specifically whether either of us could ever see ourselves being fed by the other. We were both quite attached to our currently slim, fit bodies and had no interest in being fattened.

Despite this seeming conflict, our relationship progressed as such sexual kinks were only a part of who we were. We did have much in common, and more importantly we fell deeper and deeper in love as time went on.

And to be perfectly honest, I think we both thought in the back of our minds that maybe the other at some point would let themselves go a bit, maybe give in to that marriage weight gain.

On our wedding day, though, I couldn’t care less if she was a size 2 or 12. I loved her completely, even if she never gained a pound, and I was pretty sure she felt the same.

Now, four months later, Vanessa had issued a very intriguing challenge. We hadn’t really broached the whole feeding thing much aside from some light-hearted banter here and there. This . . . this was serious.

“C’mon Darren, don’t tell me you’re scared,” she kept at it, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You always said you have that really high metabolism, plus you work out all the time . . . what’s the worst that can happen?”

I forced a chuckle. What’s the worst, indeed? I have to admit I felt a visceral thrill at the thought of making her eat her words in a very literal sense. I imagined her cockiness fading as she realized that I had won. I imagined her flat, hard abs disappearing under a soft, swelling pot belly.

I swallowed as my mouth had gone dry and put out my hand.

“Deal,” I said as she shook it.

“Wonderful,” Vanessa smirked. “Now let’s sign this and get you weighed.”

I looked again at the document she had given me outlining the terms of the challenge.

1. For six months (July 1st through December 31st) Vanessa could feed me whatever she wanted as often as she wanted.
2. If, during these six months, I gained fewer than 10 pounds, I could then feed Vanessa in the same fashion for 2 years.
3. If, during these six months, I gained more than 10 pounds but fewer than 20 pounds, I could then feed Vanessa in the same fashion for 1 year.
4. If, during these six months, I gained more than 20 pounds but fewer than 30 pounds, I could then feed Vanessa in the same fashion for 6 months.
5. If, during these six months, I gained more than 30 pounds, I would have to gain 2 additional pounds per each pound I had gained over 30 pounds. This would have to be accomplished within six months of the final weigh-in (can be completed earlier, officially ends once I hit final weight).
6. Vanessa chooses when I am weighed and gets to weigh me 3 times during the six months without me seeing the weight. If at any time I weigh myself without permission I will be penalized with an additional week of feeding before the final weigh-in.
7. If at any point I cheat by not eating something I’ve been given, I will be penalized with an additional week of feeding before the final weigh-in.
8. While at home, I will only be allowed to wear what Vanessa picks for me.
9. I will be able to work out as much as I’d like as long as it doesn’t interfere with any feedings.
10. We will create a blog to catalogue any progress made and share it with the feederism community online.

I was a little nervous about #10, but Vanessa promised to not reveal too much of our faces or our identities. We had both been active members in the feederism community for quite some time, dating back to several years before we had even met. Occasionally we’d use some of it in our foreplay, watching a feeding video or reading a hot little story together. The fact that we were going “public” with this made me even more determined to win the challenge.

I have to admit, despite my confidence that there was no way I could gain 20 pounds, let alone 30, in the next six months, I definitely had some butterflies in my stomach. Although I felt like I had some idea of what to expect thanks to reading stories and watching videos, I had never experienced anything like this first-hand. And if I knew Vanessa, she already had quite a plan.

My two biggest advantages were my high metabolism and the fact that I was already in great shape. It wouldn’t be too hard to keep a consistent workout routine going, and the extra calories should help me put on a good amount of muscle.

Worst case scenario, I figured, was that I put on close to 20 pounds and half of it was fat. It would only take me a month or two to drop any extra pounds and I’d get to feed Vanessa for at least six months. And that opportunity sounded much too great to pass up.


The morning of July 1st dawned and I got out of bed with a bit of trepidation. Vanessa hadn’t let anything slip about what she had planned, but she did seem to be buying more groceries and a couple boxes had shown up for her from online retailers.

Part of the reason this little bet worked for us is because we both worked from home most of the week. I worked for an IT firm and went in to the office quite rarely. Vanessa was a freelance graphic designer and only saw her clients for a few meetings during projects.

So on Monday morning we got up together around 8, neither one of us needing to leave the house that day. First thing Vanessa did was have me put on a pair of my boxer briefs and step onto the scale for a baseline reading.

“164,” she read, noting it on the agreement. “Very nice, let’s take a look at you.”

She got her camera and started taking pictures of me from various angles. She instructed me to pose and flex, taking close up shots of my muscular pecs and rippling abs.

“Like what you see?” I teased.

“Soon,” she shot back with a grin.

Once I got dressed we went down to the kitchen and I prepared myself for some ridiculously huge, fattening meal. Instead, she poured me a glass of water.

“Drink it right down,” Vanessa commanded.

I did easily, it wasn’t too cold and I was a little thirsty. She filled up the glass again and I drank it down. This kept going as my stomach began to feel rather full and sloshy. Is sloshy a word? I’m not sure, but that’s how it felt.

Around the fifth glass I started feeling uncomfortably bloated with water, a very unfamiliar feeling for someone who never overate. After six full glasses I could barely take a sip and Vanessa made wrote something in a notebook.

“Well, it’s a start,” she commented. “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to fit a lot more in there by the end of six months.”

I didn’t say anything as it felt like I had water coming up to the back of my throat. We didn’t do much for the next couple hours, except for repeated trips to the bathroom as the water made its way through me.

Vanessa did spend some time on the computer working on a few documents, I glimpsed notations on stomach capacities and metabolism, stuff like that. I began to wonder if I had underestimated Vanessa’s devotion to winning this bet.

For lunch my stomach was feeling very empty, but Vanessa quickly took care of that. She grilled up a pair of paninis piled high with meats and cheeses and accompanied by a huge pile of potato chips. She also gave me soda to drink with it.

After about an hour, the plate was cleaned and I was incredibly stuffed. The waistband of my shorts were biting into my overfull stomach and all I wanted to do was recline on the couch and relax.

“Let’s get you more comfortable, big boy,” Vanessa teased, almost as if she was reading my mind.

Situated on the couch, Vanessa undid the straining button on my shorts and rolled up my shirt to show my protruding stomach. It was uncomfortable for me to have it displayed like that, but I knew I had better get used to it. Vanessa grabbed a bottle of lotion from the end table and started gently massaging it into my taut middle.

I couldn’t deny that it felt quite nice, in only minutes most of the discomfort had faded. Her strong hands kept rubbing and squeezing my bare flesh until she evoked a strong physical reaction from me.

“Looks like somebody wants to come out and play,” she giggled, unzipping my pants and freeing me of my constricting underwear.

Ten minutes later my eyes were getting heavy as I laid back on the couch, feeling very empty and very full. Vanessa went to brush her teeth, and I could have sworn I smelled chocolate before drifting off to sleep.

When I woke from my nap, a plate full of brownies was on the coffee table in front of me with a note that said “Dinner at 5, these better be gone by then.”

They were ridiculously rich, fudgy brownies with a half inch of frosting on top. I sighed and began to eat them, getting through about two of them before Vanessa came back into the living room with a big glass of white liquid.

“Something to wash them down with,” she said with a grin.

It had the taste and consistency of a milkshake, and I had to admit it was quite good. I was fairly sure she had dumped weight gain powder into it, but what could I do?

Dinner was large and again it ended with me on the couch and Vanessa rubbing more lotion onto my distended stomach. Before bed I had to finish off the pan of brownies and drink two more shakes. It took me until nearly midnight and I was so full and bloated I could barely make it up to the bedroom.

As I brushed my teeth, I tried not to jostle my stomach anymore than necessary. This was not a fun way to end the day. As much as I hated the idea of doing any type of physical exercise, I secretly set my alarm to 3:00 am so I could get up and go work out in the basement for a while.

When the alarm went off I quietly slid out of bed. It was dark so I couldn’t really see Vanessa under the pile of blankets, but I didn’t notice her stir at all as I pulled on a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt.

As I walked downstairs I got an unpleasant surprise. The lights were on and Vanessa was standing in the kitchen with a table full of food, a rope in her hand, and a very wicked grin on her face.

“Aw, did somebody think he was going to sneak in a quick workout? I’m afraid that you’re going to have a quick bite to eat first.”

I gulped. “Um, what’s going on here?”

“Just wanted to make sure I had a little snack ready for you,” she replied, gesturing to the pizza, chicken tenders, french fries, and garlic bread on the table.

“So you’re going to make me eat this now?”

“Yep,” she smiled. “Even though it looks like you’re still pretty full from earlier.”

I glanced down, to my dismay my stomach was still sticking out.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” I sighed.

“Okay, take off everything but your underwear,” she instructed. “We’re going to have a fun little bit of roleplaying.”

I disrobed as requested and sat down in the chair when she gestured for me to. I wasn’t too surprised as she began to wrap the rope around my chest, keeping my arms pinned to the side. Once I was completely trussed up, she walked out of the room.

The food sitting on the table seemed to mock me, it was inevitable that I would soon be uncomfortably stuffed again. When Vanessa returned, she was holding a camera on a tripod, which she set up in the corner of the kitchen. Then she pulled my chair out from the table a bit so I was facing the camera.

“I’m planning on putting together a long running force-feeding video,” Vanessa informed me. “This is going to be a regular occurrence.”

My heart sank, if she was going to force feed me in the middle of the night, it was really going to sabotage my plan to burn some calories by working out in secret.

Vanessa pressed record and picked up a slice of pizza.

“Open wide,” she cooed.

It was nearly two hours later when I swallowed the last bite and groaned audibly. My aching stomach was visibly swollen and rock hard. After Vanessa stopped the recording and untied me, I could do little else but rub my middle and belch to relieve some of the pressure.

“Nighty-night,” Vanessa whispered in my ear as she bent over to caress my belly.


You might think that after the first 24 hours of our bet, my confidence would be flagging. Truth be told, I really wasn’t that worried. I knew more calories would be coming in, but I also knew my already fast metabolism would speed up a bit to take care of them. Plus, it’s not like I would be spending every single minute with Vanessa. I would have ample opportunity to get some exercise.

After breakfast on the 2nd day, she ran out for a few errands while I got down to work. I would have gone straight down to the basement to exercise but I was feeling a little queasy from the incredibly large, heavy breakfast. After an hour or so getting some work done, I was merely feeling a little bloated. I threw on my workout gear and went downstairs.

It wasn’t a pleasant experience, as my still full stomach protested every time I did something strenuous. I definitely felt sluggish and lethargic, but I told myself that every little bit would help. I really, really wanted to keep my total gain under 20 pounds.

After my workout, I took a shower and fantasized about what it would be like to feed Vanessa for a year. I had all sorts of ideas of exactly what I’d do. The mental image of a much plumper Vanessa spilling out of her clothes, groaning and holding an incredibly stuffed belly, was enough to help me ignore the bulge of my own midsection.

When I got out of the shower, Vanessa was waiting in the bedroom.

“Have a nice workout?” she asked with a smile.

I eyed her warily. There was nothing in our agreement saying I couldn’t exercise, so I didn’t need to act like I got caught in anything. On the other hand, I didn’t want to tip my hand to how I planned on keeping my weight down either.

So in the end I just grunted something noncommittal and started to get dressed. Vanessa was unpacking a couple bags of clothes, which seemed to include some men’s sweatpants.

“What are those for?” I asked.

“Oh, I think you’ll eventually need something with a stretchy waistband,” Vanessa winked at me.

“You know I hate sweatpants,” I replied. “There’s no way I’m wearing those.”

“Give it time,” she giggled. “By the time falls comes around something tells me you’re going to have a hard time squeezing into any of your jeans. Pretty soon you’ll be growing a big ol’ gut and these sweats will be the only thing your fat ass will be able to fit into.”

I just shook my head and scoffed. Of course I didn’t believe that would ever be true, but the way she said it still sent chills down my spine.


The next week or so went by pretty much as you’d expect. I didn’t get too much free time, so I was only able to squeeze in two short workouts. The middle-of-the-night feedings continued which also negated a lot of my plans to exercise.

I’m not sure how best to describe the experience, other than to say it was “uncomfortable”. Never one to overindulge in the past, I now found myself having to eat past the point of comfort several times a day. In fact, there were some days that I felt constantly gorged and bloated from the time breakfast ended to the time I went to bed.

Vanessa did a good job of mixing up the snacks and meals so that there wasn’t too much repetition, but they did all have some things in common. Everything I ate was loaded with fat, carbs, and calories. It was one thing to simply eat a little too much. It turned out to an entirely different experience being stuffed to the gills with fatty, sugary, carb-laden fare.

The time spent recovering from each meal grew longer, not to mention the innumerable snacks that filled up the time between meals as well. No matter how many times Vanessa stuffed me, I just couldn’t get used to the feeling of bloated discomfort.

While I wasn’t yet really worried about the eventual outcome, I did find myself hoping that she would at some point lose interest in this. It wasn’t too surprising that she was so excited about this at the beginning of our little bet, but it would be nice if she lost some momentum as time went on.

Probably the most noticeable change so far has been my capacity. Even after only a week or so of stomach-stretching stuffings, I was already eating much more per day than I ever thought I could. This was another reason I was hoping Vanessa would let up soon. At the current rate of increase, I’d be eating a truly ridiculous amount of food each day by the time this whole thing ended.


“Hey, we’re getting some responses already,” Vanessa called to me from the computer.

I was sitting on the couch, shorts unbuttoned as I drowsily rubbed my achingly full stomach. After a large breakfast, two sizable snacks, and a heavy lunch full of fried foods, I was feeling swollen and lethargic.

“Oh yeah?” I replied, wincing as I stifled a belch.

“Mm-hmm,” she smirked, glancing over at me. “JoBo451 says she’s really excited to see you pork out big time. She thinks I can probably fatten you up by at least 30 pounds and is looking forward to seeing you pop all the buttons off your pants.”

I grunted noncommittally. That was not a mental image I wanted to dwell on.

“BrittanyBellyBuster says she’s really looking forward to the before and after comparison shots. She also says she wants to see pictures of you lying down after a big stuffing with your stomach sticking up so much you can’t see the rest of you behind it.”

This was not getting any better.

“Scotty96578 says he’s rooting for you, he’s hoping that you’ll win the bet and fatten me up by at least 100 pounds.”

I smiled, now this was more like it.

“But he’s a little worried by how much I’m planning your feedings,” Vanessa continued. “And he thinks at this rate your chances aren’t looking good.”

I scowled as she looked at me and giggled.

“I’ll be fine, we’ll see if you’re still laughing in six months,” I told her.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” she shot back with a grin. “We’ll see just how long it takes you to waddle down to the kitchen in the morning for breakfast with your fat gut sticking way out in front of you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I sighed. “Just have your fun while you can. I don’t want to hear you complaining in a year when you’re only halfway through your feedings and can barely cram your giant ass into size 14 jeans.”

I could tell Vanessa was getting a little aroused as we went back and forth, and I have to admit I was as well. We both really enjoyed the thought of the other one ballooning up helplessly. Our teasing grew in intensity until she joined me on the couch, her hands rubbing my middle as we started undressing each other in a frenzy.

A while later we were sprawled out on the floor, trying to catch our breath. I had my eyes closed as I continued to imagine a much larger Vanessa struggling to pull size 14 jeans up over her inflated thighs. My reverie was interrupted by a jab to my stomach.

“Ready for a snack, tubby?” she asked.


We were about three weeks into the bet and I was falling asleep on the couch. It had been a long day, and since we had both worked from home it had also been a very “fulfilling” day.

Vanessa had been nearly relentless. To my dissatisfaction, her interest in this bet did not seem to be waning. All day long she had ensured that I was eating constantly and consequently I had grown only more heavy and bloated as the day progressed.

Now at the end of the day, with my large dessert of blueberry pie a la mode freshly finished and my pants long since undone, I was struggling to keep my eyes open.

“C’mon sleepy,” Vanessa laughed as my chin hit my chest for the 3rd time in the last couple minutes.

I allowed her to help me up and shuffled upstairs to get ready for bed. The familiar stretch and ache of a too-full stomach was an unpleasant reminder of exactly how much I had eaten that day. Maybe the worst thing about being so overfull all the time was how it made simple little tasks so much more troublesome.

Washing my face before bed now consisted of me leaning forward gingerly, doing all I could not to put any pressure on my complaining stomach. And heaven forbid I bump my swollen middle against the edge of the sink, that didn’t even bear thinking about.

After finally getting in bed, I passed out in less than five minutes. It seemed no time had passed at all before Vanessa was shaking my shoulder to wake me for my nighttime feeding.

I glanced at the clock when I got down to the kitchen and saw that it was only 1am. This was a couple hours earlier than usual, and it was no surprise that I still felt quite full.

“You know the drill,” Vanessa smirked as I shucked off my shirt and shorts.

As usual, I tried to ignore the camera facing me as Vanessa tied me up and began to feed me. She crammed down bite after bite, her grin widening as my midsection bulged out further and further.

“Well done,” she congratulated me when the last bite was swallowed.

Instead of immediately untying me, she slid her hand up my thigh and began to gently fondle me. I shifted slightly as she brought me to a state of excitement, knowing full well how to get me going. However, she stopped short before finishing the job.

“If you can get to bed before I fall asleep I’ll give you a little reward,” she breathed into my ear.

She bent forward to free me from the rope, purposefully giving me a nice look down her shirt at her full, ripe breasts.

I tried to rise from the chair as soon as she walked out of the kitchen, but just the motion of leaning forward caused my overloaded stomach to clutch. Leaning back, puffing, I started to gently rub my stomach to relieve the discomfort.

After a few more false starts, I finally heaved myself to my feet about twenty minutes later. Still so full that little beads of sweat popped out on my forehead as I staggered up the stairs, I entered our bedroom to find Vanessa clearly asleep.

For a moment I thought about waking her, but knew that it would not end well for me if I did. Groaning softly and stifling belches, I slid into bed next to her.

The next thing I knew, I was being awakened yet again.

“Wh-what time is it?” I groaned, failing to understand why I had to wake up before it was light out.

“Time for another feeding,” Vanessa informed me. “We’re going to start doing them twice a night now.”

“Noooo,” I protested wearily. “Can’t I just sleep?”

“Nope,” she chirped, “I’m going to keep stuffing your little belly so full that you don’t even remember what it’s like to be hungry. I’m going to stretch it out so much that you’ll be able to eat a meal that could feed four people. I’m going to feed you and stuff you and fatten you up until your gut is so big that you can’t reach around it.”

I just shook my head as I heaved myself out of bed. There was no arguing with her when she was like this.

“Now with this feeding I’m going to start a different series,” Vanessa announced when we were in the kitchen. “It was suggested on one of the forums and I thought it was a really great idea. So for this one you’re just going to stand and sit in front of the fridge and eat straight out of it. I’ve prepared a variety of things for you to eat there, you can see the sticky notes on each dish I expect you to finish. Any questions?”

I shook my head, uncomfortably cognizant of the fact that this was one of my favorite scenarios. I had a number of photo sets saved of various girls stuffing their faces straight from the fridge until they were stuffed and bloated. I had never imagined that one day it would be me.

“And begin,” Vanessa announced, peering at me through her camera.

I grabbed a spoon and a large bowl of pudding and began shoveling it in. I could feel my belly pushing out over the waistband of my boxer shorts, still so full from earlier feedings that there was no way I could suck it in at all.

Plate by plate disappeared into my straining stomach, the cool air of the open fridge soothing my flushed skin as I became grossly overstuffed yet again. After at least an hour of gorging, I had eaten myself into near immobility. Sprawled out in front the refrigerator with my painfully swollen gut sticking far up above me, I had reached true “beached whale” status.

“Oh baby,” Vanessa breathed, moving around to take pictures of me from various angles. “This may be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Look at you, you can’t even move. Ohhh, this is so good . . .”

I had no response. After a few more minutes of taking pictures, Vanessa kissed my domed middle and headed upstairs to “take care of some business”. I would have loved to join her in that of course, but even raising my head off the ground seemed like an impossible feat at the moment.

Eventually I was able to make it back upstairs to crash for another couple hours, but morning still came way too early. I actually stayed in bed for a good twenty or so minutes after waking up, rubbing my still-protruding stomach to ease away some of the bloat.

Vanessa had really stepped her game up and it was imperative that I find some way to counter. I resolved to come up with a way to burn off the many excess calories bombarding my system before things really got out of hand.

Breakfast, however, did not bode well for me. Vanessa was laughing at me from the very beginning as I struggled to make my way though a ridiculously huge omelet stuffed full of ham, sausage, and cheese.

“What’s the matter, slim?” she teased. “This is just breakfast, I don’t know how you could already be full.”

I just took a deep breath and concentrated on eating what I had been given. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of admitting that I was too stuffed to go on, but my poor stomach was very clear that this overeating was really beginning to take a toll.

It was a long and arduous affair, but I managed to finish the portions I was given. I could not, however, suppress an audible groan as I leaned back and cradled my painfully full stomach.

“Poor babe,” she cooed with a smile playing on her lips. “You look so uncomfortable. I’m afraid this isn’t going to get any easier for you.”



Well-Known Member
Jun 2, 2010
Chapter 1 (continued)

The following Saturday was the last day of the first month of feedings, and Vanessa told me she had a “celebration” planned.

“Happy one month!” she cheered as I walked into the kitchen, rubbing my eyes sleepily.

I had anticipated some ridiculous spread, but there was nothing but a box on the table.

“It’s your breakfast,” Vanessa explained, seeing me look at the box in confusion.

I opened it up warily. A dozen doughnuts stared back at me. I should point out that these weren’t little doughnuts you could eat in two bites, these were large, heavy doughnuts with glazes and frostings and fillings.

I grabbed one and put it on a plate as Vanessa poured me a cup of coffee. After a month of disturbingly large meals, I figured a dozen doughnuts would be nothing more than a warmup at this point. As the fried rings of dough took residence in my stomach, however, I realized they were taking up more room than I anticipated.

“Slowing down already?” Vanessa asked with a smirk as I took a deep breath.

“No, I’m fine,” I grunted as I reached forward to grab my seventh.

They accumulated like cement in my stomach, inexorably pushing my midsection out further and further. By the time I managed to cram down the eleventh, I felt like I had swallowed a bowling ball.

“C’mon babe, I know you can finish them,” Vanessa cooed, sitting on my lap and picking up a doughnut.

She brought it to my lips as her other hand massaged my bulging belly. I made it about halfway through before weakly protesting that I couldn’t stand another bite.

“Really, I’m done,” I gasped, my stomach stretched and taut.

“I’m afraid ‘done’ isn’t part of your vocabulary anymore, sweetie,” she said. “We just need to make a little more room in there.”

She put the doughnut down and swung her leg over so she was facing me, straddling my legs. I just sat motionless as she rolled up my shirt and began lightly rubbing my swollen belly. I groaned and grunted as her fingers worked deeper, coaxing up belch after belch.

“Why can’t we *urp* just *brrrp* stop?” I moaned.

“Because I have six months to feed you as much as I want,” she replied. “And for six months I am going to keep stuffing you so full of fattening foods that you can’t move. I am going to watch your flat stomach get soft and round, bulging out into a real gut. You’re going to get love handles and your chest is going to get jiggly and your ass is going to get huge. For six months you are going to be my feedee, and by the end of it you’re going to love it. When this little bet is done you’re going to beg me to keep feeding you, you’ll be addicted to the pleasures of a stuffed belly.”

As she went through her monologue, she had reached into my pants and take me in her hand. Her tugging became more intense as she spoke until I was rock hard and bucking my hips. As I neared climax, she released me and stuffed the other half of the doughnut into my mouth. Then she knelt between my legs, pulled down my pants, and took me in her mouth.

I frantically chewed the fried pastry, swallowing just before I released with a gasp. I barely noticed Vanessa swallowing every drop, her eyes dancing with delight.

I spent most of the morning stretched out on the couch, pinned by the weight of my breakfast. I was just starting to feel like it had digested a bit when Vanessa ran out quickly to grab lunch for me. Fifteen minutes later, she returned with the biggest burrito I’ve ever seen.

“Are you serious?” I asked as she unwrapped it on the coffee table.

It was immense, almost as long as my forearm and probably thicker.

“They call it the Gut Buster,” Vanessa grinned. “Loaded with rice, beans, lettuce, cheese, and beef with extra sour cream. Good luck!”

I quickly discovered this was going to be a messy endeavor. Fortunately, it tasted delicious. Figuring it would be better to get it down quickly before my stomach realized what was happening, I chomped away.

Unfortunately, I was only a quarter in when I started to feel it. The incredible weight of this disgustingly large burrito was bloating me up quickly.

“Best not to take too many breaks,” Vanessa advised as I drew a deep breath. “That burrito is really going to swell up your gut, you better get it down quick while you have a chance.”

I just shot her a glance and took another big bite. Then another. And another.

Halfway through the massive meal, my sides were starting to pull and I was stifling a belch after every couple of bites. Three quarters of the way through, I was breathing shallowly through my open mouth and gently rubbing my very distended middle.

Despite the fact that I felt like I was carrying around a bowling ball in my gut, I persevered and kept shoveling it in. Each bite caused my overstretched sides to cramp and ache, sweat breaking out on my forehead.

“Ooh, you’re doing so great babe,” Vanessa cheered breathlessly as I neared the end.

I could tell by the tone in her voice that she was very turned on. Fighting through the nearly unbearable discomfort, I ate the the last several bites in a hurry.

“Ooof,” I groaned, reclining on the couch.

The full weight of my gluttony crashed down on me like a ton of bricks. Or that may have just been the burrito. I couldn’t do anything other than breathe shallowly as Vanessa gently tended to my blown out belly. As her fingers worked their magic, I slipped into a comatose state.

Waking several hours later, I groggily tried to push myself up. No luck. It felt like Vanessa was sitting on my stomach, but when I looked all I saw was a sickeningly swollen middle. Groaning softly, I flopped back down.

I reached down to my pants and confirmed that Vanessa had unbuttoned them while I was asleep. I was torn between being grateful and worrying about the kinds of pictures she had probably taken. I didn’t try to do them back up, both because I knew it would put pressure on my aching stomach and because I had a sinking suspicion that I was not done eating yet.

Sure enough, a few hours later Vanessa left the house again, this time returning with a couple bags of Chinese food. I nervously rubbed my protruding stomach and took a deep breath.

“Mmm, salty, MSG-filled, belly bloating Chinese food,” Vanessa cooed. “Good thing you left your pants unbuttoned.”

I flushed slightly as I grabbed my chop sticks. Vanessa spooned out a large load of fried rice and sesame chicken onto a plate and poured me a glass of beer.

Despite being full already, I made it through my first plateful rather quickly. The second plate also went down easier than expected, taking up surprisingly little room in my stomach. Vanessa poured me a second beer as I began my third plate, and it was as I was taking my last bite of spare ribs that I started to hit a wall. A fourth plate and third beer went down slowly, and I could feel my stomach inflating.

Vanessa had not been exaggerating when describing the results of bingeing on so much Chinese food. I had to stifle a belch after every other mouthful, blimping up as I forced more down. My belly had blown up so much that it became impossible to bend forward by the time I finished the last plate.

“Finish your beer, babe,” Vanessa said, handing me my glass as I puffed for breath.

I was ready to pop and there was most of a glass left. For the first time, I was really wishing I hadn’t taken this bet. Even the thought of freely fattening up Vanessa for six months or a year didn’t take the edge off my discomfort.

I put the glass to my lips and began to drink, almost choking as she put her finger under the bottom of the glass and began to tip it up. My eyes watered as my stomach stretched to a truly painful extent, the beer pouring down my throat.

The last drop was consumed and as Vanessa took the empty glass I felt an incredible pressure building in my aching stomach.

“So how’s my little piggy?” she asked.

A gigantic, uncontrollable belch surged out to answer her. Her face nearly split in two with a grin, bending over to kiss me on the cheek.

“That was so hot,” she whispered. “You’re just my little overfed, bloated piggy, aren’t you? You can’t even move, can you? Poor babe, you look like you could just . . . about . . . pop.”

She punctuated her last word with a prod of my swollen middle, coaxing up another sudden belch.

“Dessert is in a couple hours,” she told me. “That’s the nice thing about Chinese food, I know you’ll be hungry again in little bit.”

I groaned as she walked away, I didn’t think I’d be hungry for a week.

Unfortunately she didn’t give me a week to recover. I did manage to go back to the couch and lay down for a bit as Vanessa muddled about in the kitchen. I heard an odd plopping sizzling sound, but was too distracted by the sight of my stomach to pay much attention.

Even lying flat on my back, my midsection rose up disturbingly high. I knew it was just due to all the food I had eaten, but it was still weird to see. Not being able to weigh myself kept me from knowing if I had actually gained anything, but at least I wasn’t struggling to fit into my shorts yet.

I must have dozed off for a bit, groggy from the heavy meal and several beers. The next thing I knew Vanessa was sitting on the couch, telling me to lift my head a bit so she could put it on her lap. I managed to keep from grunting out loud as I did so.

“I made a very special treat for dessert,” she informed me as I looked up at her smiling face.

I tried to imagine the view a year from now with her sporting a double chin and plump cheeks. Maybe there wouldn’t even be room for my head on her much softer lap if her belly swelled forward to her knees.

“I made deep-fried Oreos,” she continued, interrupting my nice little fantasy.

She picked up one of the most fattening things known to man and put it to my lips. I reluctantly allowed her to feed it to me, trying my best to ignore the ridiculous number of calories that it must contain. One after the other was placed in my mouth, her grin widening as my already packed stomach stretched further.

I lost count after a dozen artery-clogging treats, moaning and puffing between each bite-sized belt buster. Almost unconscious by the time it ended, it took me a few minutes to realize that she had stopped feeding me.

“All gone,” she cheered, reaching over to pat my belly.

I looked down and groaned, I couldn’t believe how far my distended middle stuck up. It was truly shocking to me that I could possibly eat so much in one day, I never would have believed that my capacity could have increased so drastically in just a month.

“Let’s get you up to bed, shall we?” Vanessa asked rhetorically. “C’mon, I’ll pull you up.”

With her help I managed to get to my feet, moaning and belching as I did. I tottered up to bed, collapsing on my back once I got there. Vanessa giggled as she pulled off my shirt and pants, leaving me lying there in only my boxers.

“And here we have Darren after a big day of eating to celebrate the first month of the bet,” Vanessa narrated as she began filming my prone form. “For breakfast he ate a dozen doughnuts, then had a huge burrito for lunch. Poor babe was ready to pop after that, you should have seen how bloated he looked. For dinner he had Chinese food and beer, his belly swelled up right before my eyes. It was so hot to see him struggle to eat it all, his pants unbuttoned, burping like crazy and moaning. Then I made a bunch of deep fried Oreos for dessert, which is why he’s now lying down and looking like he swallowed a basketball.”

I was barely able to pay attention to anything she was saying, but still flushed slightly as she described my current state. I was resolute in winning this bet, but I had to admit it probably did look like she had won a small victory.

“So that’s it for the first month,” Vanessa’s narration winding down. “Five more months of bigger and bigger meals and watching Darren get a bigger and bigger belly. I think we’re well on the way to a 30 pound gain, this month has been mostly focusing on building a good foundation. Pretty soon his empty belly will look bigger than it does right now, and I’m really excited about seeing where all those new pounds end up. I’ll have another update soon!”


The next morning I awoke still feeling full and puffy from the previous day. I spent some time in the morning in front of the bathroom mirror wearing just my boxers, examining my body for any signs of change. I couldn’t be sure how much of the roundness in my stomach was simply undigested food from my forced binge, but overall it didn’t look like the first month of feeding had had any substantial impact on my figure.

I knew that even the best metabolism couldn’t hold off that torrent of calories forever. I tried to figure out how much I had worked out in the first month and to my dismay realized it was only a handful of times at best. I knew I would need to do a much better job of burning calories if I wanted to have any chance of winning this bet.

“Hey Darren, breakfast is ready!” Vanessa called up from the kitchen.

I looked at myself in the mirror and took a deep breath.

Five months to go, if I stay strong I can beat her, I told myself. Then she’ll be the one ending each day too full to move, outgrowing her clothes, popping off buttons, waddling around with a gigantic food baby, groaning and moaning and belching . . .

I adjusted my boxers and went to get dressed. There was no way I was about to lose this game.


Wondering Where You Are
Apr 11, 2008
Only gotten through a bit of this so far - past the first 24 hours - but I can tell you it's quality stuff. I would do so many things to be part of a 'deal' like this, if I only knew an eager FFA...


Well-Known Member
Jun 2, 2010
Only gotten through a bit of this so far - past the first 24 hours - but I can tell you it's quality stuff. I would do so many things to be part of a 'deal' like this, if I only knew an eager FFA...
I'm happy you've liked it so far. Hopefully the rest proves to be enjoyable as well.


Well-Known Member
Jun 2, 2010
Chapter 2

I’m not going to go into a ton of detail on the second month. It pretty much went the same as the first with Vanessa feeding me a ridiculous amount of food around the clock. The twice nightly feedings continued and I failed to exercise a single time during the first half of the month.

It was all pretty much a blur of large meals, my stomach stretching to full capacity several times per day. It was hard enough just to get my work done during the day as it seemed that I had just emerged from a food coma when the next meal was about to be served.

My reflection in the mirror was starting to show a guy who had clearly slacked off a bit at the gym and maybe was hitting up a few too many fast food joints. As definition faded my anxiety level increased, knowing that I had over four more months to go.

I told myself it would be okay, that I was just looking bloated from all the eating, that pounds weren’t really starting to stick yet. And maybe I would have been able to continue in that denial, if not for one fateful morning about six weeks after we started.

Barely awake, I pulled on a pair of jeans as the weather was supposed to be unseasonably cool that day. They slid on okay but when I pulled the flaps together to button them, they didn’t quite want to meet. For a moment I stared dumbly at the jeans, wondering if I had grabbed a pair of Vanessa’s by mistake. A quick look confirmed that wasn’t the case.

A sense of dread washed over me as I slowly realized what was happening - my pants were getting tight.

So I did something I never did before and prayed I never would have to do. I sucked in my stomach. This led to the second unpleasant realization of the morning - it barely moved. Even sucking in as hard as I could, it was a struggle to get the jeans buttoned and zipped.

How could this have happened? Sure, I hadn’t worn these jeans in a while, but I had always been able to fasten them with no issues in the past. And I couldn’t blame the nightly feedings, my stomach wasn’t all that full.

Excuse after excuse came to mind, but deep down I knew the horrible truth. That didn’t mean I was going to acknowledge it, however, just that I could use it as motivation to try harder at winning this contest.

I threw on my loosest t-shirt and went downstairs, hoping the waistband of the jeans would relax a bit as I wore them. I most certainly was not going to give in and wear something with an elastic waistband. Vanessa would never let me hear the end of that.

“Ready for breakfast?” Vanessa smirked when I got down to the kitchen.

Waiting for me was a plate with a ridiculous stack of waffles topped with rivers of syrup and lots of whipped cream.

“Sure thing,” I replied, moving to my seat.

“Wait!” Vanessa suddenly commanded before I sat down. “There’s something . . . different about you.”

I tried to keep my face blank as she looked at me thoughtfully.

“Pull up your shirt,” she said, causing my heart to sink.

Reluctantly, I grabbed the hem and pulled it up.

“Oh my, what is this?” she purred with obvious satisfaction. “Somebody is getting a bit too chubby for their jeans.”

I tried not to shudder as she caressed the soft ring of flesh around my waist.

“How about you take off your shirt before you eat?” Vanessa suggested. “I want to see the effect of every single bite.”

I just sighed and took off my shirt, trying not to wince as I sat down and my jeans pinched my waist even more. I half-heartedly dug into the waffles, thankful that I at least had nice hot cup of coffee to wash them down. It was my goal to finish my entire breakfast without giving her the satisfaction of seeing me unbutton my jeans, but I had to give in halfway through.

“Mmm, this is a good look for you,” she teased as I took a breather. “Shirtless, pants unbuttoned, swollen stomach sticking way out. Bet you’re regretting this little bet, aren’t you?”

“Not even a little worried,” I replied, my voice sounding more strained than I would have liked. “Enjoy this while you can, soon it will be your turn and I’ll fatten you up so quickly you’ll be forced to buy maternity jeans to accommodate your huge belly.”

Vanessa laughed hugely at this.

“Au contraire my little porky pig. I predict that a year from now I will be just as trim as always and you’ll be asking me to pick you up a bigger pair of sweatpants because your fat ass got too big the XXL size.”

“We’ll see about that,” I shot back, taking another bite of waffles. “Just don’t expect me to have any mercy on you when you’re begging me to stop.”

Vanessa just laughed again, her smug confidence boring under my skin.

Over the next week I realized to my frustration that I was unbuttoning my shorts sooner and sooner during the meals. I could still fit in them, but I used to be able to make it almost the entire meal before they started pinching too much for comfort. I wasn’t sure if this was because my meals were getting bigger or because I was. Neither option was very attractive.

It was near the end of the second month that I woke up in the morning and realized that she had actually let me sleep through the night. After cursing myself for missing an opportunity to work out, I began to wonder what her game was.

I quickly found out when I went downstairs for breakfast and there was only a pitcher of water waiting for me. I remembered what she had done when we were first starting out to test my capacity.

“Alright, same as before,” she instructed. “Drink as many glasses as you can and let’s see how much I’ve stretched out that stomach.”

Drinking to the point of being bloated and waterlogged wasn’t exactly the most fun in the world, but I comforted myself with the thought that at least there were no calories in water.

This time I made it through six glasses with no problem, and actually finished almost eight. Obviously this was a worrying development as it meant my capacity had increased nearly 33%. I could only hope that this current rate of increase was not sustainable.

“Okay, no food until dinner today,” she informed me after completed my capacity test.

I was certainly surprised by this, but decided nothing good could come from questioning it. Even accounting for the time it would take until the water had made its way through me, that should give me ample time for two solid workouts.

Roughly eight hours later, fresh out of the shower after my second workout, I made my way downstairs for dinner. On the table was a platter of fried chicken, a pan of lasagna, and mashed potatoes. Vanessa just smiled wide as she filled up my plate and handed me a milkshake.

“Hope you brought your appetite,” she said with a glint in her eye.

Truthfully, I was starving. My stomach had been growling for a good two hours now and I actually had to keep myself from scarfing it down too quickly.

One plate of course turned into two, and then three. My stomach went from uncomfortably empty to comfortably full and then to round and bloated. Still she kept scooping food onto my plate and refilling my milkshake.

Even with my shorts unbuttoned, I was running out of room. Bite after bite stretched my middle out further and further, distended and firm to the touch. During the fifth helping of everything, I was breathing heavily and resting for a minute between each bite.

“Ooh, you’re so close to being done,” Vanessa cooed, reaching over and taking a forkful of potatoes. “C’mon now, open up like a good little piggy.”

Rubbing my stomach, I let her feed me the rest. Too disgustingly full to move, I couldn’t even voice a protest when she pulled up my shirt to show off my swollen belly and started taking pictures.

Later on I ate about half a pie (with ice cream of course) and went to bed groaningly full. The twice nightly feedings also resumed, and my mini-reprieve was officially over.

As the second month drew to a conclusion, there were really only two main things to note. First, I was still successfully avoiding sweatpants, although all my shorts and jeans were getting increasingly difficult to button. Secondly, Vanessa’s libido seemed to be on overdrive. At least once or twice a day she was initiating some type of sensual activity.

A routine began after dinner. She’d coax me out of my chair by slowly stripping in front of me, teasing me as every single stitch fell to the floor. Once I staggered after her to the bedroom, she’d help me to a similar undressed state and lay me down on the bed. Then Vanessa would grab a bottle of oil and begin to massage me from head to toe, bringing me to a state of complete relaxation and full arousal.

Occasionally she’d mix it up by pleasuring me right there at the table, sometimes even as I was finishing dessert. It was getting so that it was hard sometimes to distinguish the pain from the pleasure. I’m sure it was on purpose, but it was still throwing me off my game.

As the second month came to a close, I was both happy and concerned that we were a third of the way through. There was no way I could even be called plump or chubby yet, which reinforced my belief I could get through this without gaining more than 20 pounds. However, the changes were getting more difficult to deny and all my clothes had gotten quite uncomfortably snug.

I had a feeling the next month or so could be a tipping point. If I kept the upper hand, I could minimize the damage and then enjoy a wonderful year of stuffing Vanessa’s belly until she practically doubled in size. If, and this was a bone-chilling thought, Vanessa grabbed the upper hand . . . I scarcely wanted to think about that. Thirty pounds would no doubt put a good-sized belly on me and there’s no doubt she would enjoy rubbing my face in it every single day.

I could win this. I knew I could.


The good news about the third month was that it meant we were about to be halfway through. The bad news was that I could tell some pounds were starting to stick. The all-day feedings were definitely taking a toll and I couldn’t really deny it any longer. Once or twice I managed to squeeze in a workout, but I was so full that I barely even broke a sweat.

About a week or so into the third month, Vanessa had the bright idea we should go out for a big meal together. She laid some clothes out for me to wear and I honestly struggled to get them on. The slacks were slicing into my softer waistline, causing my new pounds to spill over in a very grotesque manner. The shirt she picked out was a slim-fit dress shirt that had nicely molded to my trim form before all this. Now the buttons gaped around my rounder middle and made me look even heavier than I was.

“Perfect,” Vanessa smirked after I had gotten dressed. “Let me just take a few ‘before’ photos real quick.”

I obediently stood there as she took some pictures, not looking forward to the “after” part of the photo session.

Half an hour later we were being seated at the restaurant. When the waitress came around for our orders, Vanessa went ahead and put in our whole order.

“We would like to start with two appetizers, the chips & queso and the bacon-wrapped scallops. Then we’ll have the a chicken caesar salad and an order of the bottomless pasta bowl. We’ll start that off with penne and vodka cream sauce. We’ll also have one water and one cola. Thank you.”

Vanessa smiled at me after the waitress took our order and left. “I think you can figure out which is for you.”

I tried to smile back confidently, but I was a bit intimidated by the bottomless pasta. It definitely seemed that she was planning on stuffing me quite thoroughly tonight.

The appetizers, fortunately, were quite tasty and went down easily. They were pretty salty, however, and I was finishing up my second glass of soda before the main course came.

“Just let me know when you’re ready for the next bowl,” our waitress informed me as she placed my meal in front of me. “And you can pick any type of pasta and sauce, as many as you’d like to try.”

“Oh, I think he’ll be trying quite a few,” Vanessa laughed. “My hubby here loves his pasta.”

I ignored the bait and picked up my fork. At least the food was really good, I reflected as I dug in. It would really suck if I had to gorge myself on crappy food.

After the first bowl my stomach was warmly full, but of course I was nowhere close to being finished. The next serving was spaghetti and meat sauce, a classic. The third bowl was linguine with clam sauce, and then Vanessa ordered a bowl of fettuccine alfredo for me.

At this point I was becoming a little flushed, my stomach pushing out over my too-tight slacks. I was loathe to unbutton my pants in public, but as I grimly swallowed bite after bite of the fettuccine, I began to worry that the button may simply pop right off. Between the added pounds a tremendously bloated stomach, I had no doubt that the threads were at their breaking point.

“Excellent job,” Vanessa purred as I finally pushed away the empty bowl. “I’ll give you a little break before ordering dessert.”

I just nodded, taking shallow breaths and occasionally dabbing my forehead with my napkin. My umpteenth glass of soda helped me work up a few discreet belches, easing the pressure slightly.

“So would either of you like dessert?” our waitress asked, much too soon in my opinion.

“I think we’d like the double chocolate cake to share,” Vanessa informed me.

I bit back a groan, I knew what her idea of “sharing” would be. Sure enough, after a tiny sliver for herself, she pushed the remainder over to me. And by remainder, I mean a huge chunk of dense chocolate cake covered by a sickeningly rich chocolate frosting.

About halfway through I had to take a break, resting my elbows on the table and trying to will myself to make room in my stretched stomach.

“Mmm, I bet you’re really enjoying that cake, aren’t you?” she teased. “Sooo many calories, just adding to those little love handles that are sticking out over your belt.”

I flushed, trying to ignore her words as I speared another forkful of cake.

“Some of those calories going straight to your little belly, pushing it out further and further. And maybe a few to your ass and thighs, making them soft and round. I wonder where you’ll gain the most . . .”

“No matter where I gain, it won’t begin to compare to how fat you’ll get,” I retorted.

Vanessa just laughed out loud. “Oh dear sweet Darren. I’m so pleased you’re holding on to your hope of winning this. That will make our little weigh-in so much sweeter in a few months.”

I didn’t respond, focusing instead on finishing the last few bites. I was truly ready to burst when it was all gone and was quite amazed the buttons on my shirt were still holding on. Vanessa paid the check and was ready to go before I was. I tried to disguise how uncomfortable I was as I rose to my feet, my fully gorged belly jutting out noticeably. As we left the restaurant, I tried not to make any sudden movement that could cause the overtaxed buttons on my shirt to come flying off.

Back home she got the camera out immediately for a series of pictures. First she snapped a number of shots with my clothes still on, the buttons on my shirt visibly gaping over a very swollen belly. Then she unbuttoned and unzipped my pants and also undid the bottom three buttons on my shirt so my overfull midsection could stick straight out.

I knew it looked ridiculous, drawing attention both to the weight I had gained and my glutted state. She took pictures head on, from the side, and with me both sitting and lying down. Eventually she had taken enough from every imaginable angle and I could finally finish undressing.

Before I could get any more clothes on, however, she gently pushed me down so I was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You were so wonderful tonight,” she said. “I think you really deserve a special reward.”

She started swaying side to side in a sexy dance as her fingers began to toy with the buttons on her blouse. One by one they came undone and I couldn’t help but get excited. Even though I wanted to fatten her up, even I couldn’t deny that she had a very sexy body.

After the blouse was off, she started with her pants. As they were unbuttoned and unzipped, I could see a glimpse of her purple panties. I practically salivated as she slowly slid her pants down her long legs, kicking them off to one side.

“Do you like this?” she asked, still dancing for me.

I nodded eagerly.

“Then you’ll love this,” she promised, her hands going behind her back.

No matter how many times I had seen it before, it never got any less exciting. Her bra slid off to reveal the most amazing pair of tits I had ever seen. Full, round, and perky, they jiggled in a most intriguing way as she continued her striptease.

I was already extremely excited by the time she knelt down between my legs, her hands resting on my knees. She then slid her hands up the inside of my thighs and I smiled as I was pretty sure where this was going.

To my surprise, however, her hands changed trajectory and detoured to my swollen midsection, where they began an undeniably pleasant massage. Her soft lips joined them after a moment, kissing and nibbling my tautly rounded belly. I moaned out loud, enjoying the moment too much to worry about how my stomach had been transformed into an intensely erogenous zone.

When I could clearly take no more, Vanessa had me scoot back and lay down. The short break was necessary as it took all my self-control to not release immediately as straddled my hips and docked herself. Her hands remained on my stomach, firmly rubbing it as she rode me with increasing enthusiasm.

I reached completion like the waves crashing on the shore, spending myself completely. In a haze, I was barely cognizant of Vanessa leaning down and whispering in my ear.

“Soon you will enjoy this as much as I am. You will long to stuff your belly, you will beg me to feed you, you will give in to your desires to stuff and eat and gain and will delight in your ever-growing body. That is where this all ends, nowhere else.”

And then I fell asleep, dreaming of endless meals being fed to me until my belly reached my knees and I couldn’t even stand, Vanessa laughing at me as I asked for more.



Well-Known Member
Jun 2, 2010
Chapter 2 cont.

For the first time I was legitimately worried. Not just that I may gain more weight than I thought I would, but that my will was crumbling. I had no idea Vanessa could be so intellectually cunning.

I found myself oddly conflicted about the changes to my body as the third month progressed. One part of me was disgusted and horrified as the pounds accumulated, but that was a surprisingly small part of me. For the most part I was . . . fascinated, I guess, for lack of a better word. Each new pound was so foreign that I didn’t really know how to react.

My stomach became permanently convex, even on the rare occasion it wasn’t fully to bursting. Not even sucking in could completely flatten it anymore. Little pockets of disconcerting softness accumulated around my hips and chest and I could no longer look in the mirror and call myself “trim”.

The worst part may have been the morning I woke up and discovered that none of my pants would fit anymore. Even going through the humiliating process of lying on my back and sucking in wasn’t enough to get the button through the button-hole.

My two choices at that point were to go around with my pants unbuttoned or bite the bullet and wear the sweatpants that Vanessa bought for me. Neither seemed like a great option to me, so I decided to at least be a little comfortable. With a certain amount of dread I donned the sweats and went downstairs for breakfast.

“Oh ho ho! What is this?!” Vanessa exclaimed, showing far too much glee for my comfort. “Has somebody already gotten too fat for all his pants? Whatsa matter, tubby, can’t button them up anymore? Is your round little belly getting in the way?”

“Whatever,” I mumbled, sitting down and grabbing a couple pancakes.

“I guess we’ll have to go to the store to get you some clothes to wear out of the house. Don’t forget, though, I get to pick what you can wear when we’re here.”

I hadn’t forgotten, although I wished I could. Vanessa took advantage of that rule later that day, having me put on a pair of jeans and flannel shirt that snugly hugged my rounded middle before we left for the mall.

“But I can’t get these to button,” I groused, hating that I even had to say such a thing.

“Here, I have an idea,” she grinned.

She rummaged around her purse for a moment and came out with a hair band. Without so much as asking for permission, she reached down to my jeans and looped one end around the button before threading it through the hole and back around the button again.

“This is something pregnant women do when they start to show,” she told me with an infuriatingly smug smirk. “I think it’s appropriate for this as well.”

“Better save some for yourself, I’ll have you popping out of your jeans in under a month once this is over,” I shot back.

“I think you may be otherwise occupied,” she giggled, poking my middle.

I bit back another retort and got ready to leave.

As soon as we got to the mall to pick up some new clothes, Vanessa led us directly to the food court. It had only been an hour or two since lunch, but of course she wanted to top me off. After an order of Chinese food and a ridiculously large ice cream cone, we were ready to shop.

Three hours later we had bought enough clothes to keep me going for quite a while. I tried to get cheaper stuff since I was sure I’d be back in my old clothes soon. Vanessa did persuade me that it would be wise to buy them a size or two bigger than I needed at present. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but I had to admit I probably would gain a couple more pounds and it would be nice to be comfortable for the remainder of the bet.

“You must be starving after all that walking around,” Vanessa remarked as we left the last store.

I didn’t say anything because I knew I didn’t have to. She continued as I knew she would.

“Since you were such a good boy while shopping and didn’t complain at all, I think we should go to that steakhouse here that you like.”

I had to admit, I did love the steakhouse that had recently opened up in the mall. They only had two or three other locations in the US and I had gotten a fantastic meal each time I had been there.

After taking the bags out to the car, we went to the restaurant only to find out it had a nearly two hour wait. Vanessa surprised me by putting our names down anyway.

“I guess we’ll just have to find something to do in the meantime,” she said. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you wait for food. We can do appetizers in the food court!”

“I should have known,” I sighed. “Alright, let’s do this.”

Vanessa seated me at a table in the middle of the food court and then began bringing me various appetizer-type dishes. There were chicken wings, cheese fries, spring rolls, cheesy breadsticks, and more. She kept the food coming quicker than I could cram it down and I began to flag as all the greasy finger foods started to catch up to me.

“Oh, there’s the buzzer,” Vanessa remarked after nearly two hours. “Is somebody ready for a big steak dinner? Better finish up those onion rings real quick so we can go.”

I shoved the last few in my mouth and stood. As I rose to my feet I felt the full weight of my recent binge, my overfull stomach pulled and clutched. I walked along Vanessa as we made our way to the restaurant, already feeling rather piggish.

Fortunately she spared me the indignity of trying to force down more appetizers once we were seated, but she did insist I order the a 20oz. steak with mashed potatoes. I got through half of it okay but then slowed down drastically.

“Hmm, someone’s stamina is a little disappointing,” she chided.

I stifled a belch and speared another piece of meat. The food was delicious, but my cram-packed stomach was stretched tight. I could only finish my meal by taking one small bite at a time, but I did manage to finally clean my plate.

I would have have had some smartass comment to make after I took the last bite, but I was too full to put together a coherent sentence. Mercifully, Vanessa didn’t insist on dessert.

As we left the restaurant I reflected on Vanessa’s barb that the hair-tie trick was something frequently employed by pregnant women. I felt hugely pregnant myself, toting around a heavy meat-baby strapped to my front.

Once in the passenger seat of the car, I took off the hair-tie and let my disgustingly full stomach just hang out. I knew that I must have been a perfect picture of Vanessa’s fantasy, but I was too uncomfortable to care.

Later that evening I sat on the couch in nothing but my boxers while eating a huge cookie ice cream sundae. Vanessa had been fiddling around on the computer and with her phone, after a while she came over and plugged her tablet into a HDMI cable leading to the TV.

“I have something fun for us to watch,” she announced.

My instincts told me I wasn’t going to like this, and they were right. She pressed play on her tablet and suddenly there was a video of me eating a ridiculously large meal at our kitchen table. The camera focused on the neck down, so this was obviously one of the videos she had uploaded to our tracking website for others to watch.

“How are you feeling there, chubby?” came a familiar voice from the screen.

“I’m *brrrp* fine,” I groaned, my voice sounding strained.

“I put together a few of my favorite clips for us to watch together,” Vanessa informed me as she looked at the TV.

“Do we have to watch this?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, this is so hot. I can’t wait until we have all six months of footage, I can watch your slim, muscular body blimp up until you’re just a big fat lardgut. Hurry up and finish your dessert, Mama’s feeling frisky.”

I did manage to cram down the rest of it, looking very swollen afterward. Vanessa was enraptured by the scenes on the screen, biting her lip and fidgeting in her seat as the video showed me fed large meals over and over.

As soon as I finished eating she began shedding her clothes, rubbing my belly and kissing my neck as she disrobed. Before I knew it I had lost my boxers as well and was prone on the couch. A similarly nude Vanessa mounted me in such a way that she could keep watching the TV, her hoarse panting revealing her extreme arousal.

I closed my eyes and tried to block out everything but the wonderful sensation of sliding into her. Vanessa didn’t help matters by keeping up a constant monologue on how fat and bloated I looked. The movement jostled my overfull stomach rather unpleasantly, and I could only groan and stifle burps as she brought us both quickly to completion.

“Halfway there,” she murmured, her face against my chest as she basked in the overglow. “So excited about the next three months.”


Well-Known Member
Oct 6, 2005
I printed the contract and am in negotiations with Mrs. now...lol


Well-Known Member
Apr 23, 2007
this is perfect !!!! ;-)

such a lovely relationship and so sweet and teasing and with some compatiton thehe

i hope you plan to never end this story ;-)

Is there any mrs. who would like to make such a contract with me lol?


Well-Known Member
Jun 2, 2010
Great job!
Thanks! :)

I printed the contract and am in negotiations with Mrs. now...lol
Haha, glad I could be a source of inspiration. Let us all know how that goes. ;)

Awesome story! I am really enjoying it.

this is perfect !!!! ;-)

such a lovely relationship and so sweet and teasing and with some compatiton thehe

i hope you plan to never end this story ;-)

Is there any mrs. who would like to make such a contract with me lol?
Thank you. There is an end, unfortunately, but not for a while yet.


Well-Known Member
Jun 2, 2010
Chapter 3

As we progressed through the fourth month, it became uncomfortably obvious that I was in serious trouble. It really sunk in when I looked over Vanessa's shoulder when she was putting together a before and after set of pictures for the blog. As much as I had already noticed that I was clearly gaining some weight, the drastic difference presented there on the screen was enough to fully shock me out of any denial that may have survived.

I looked pathetically bloated and out of shape, with a noticeable belly protruding out and real actual love handles settling above my hips. My entire physique was virtually unrecognizable. Since one of the terms of the agreement was that I couldn't weigh myself, I couldn't actually quantify the damage. But what I saw there made my blood run cold.

Plus, Vanessa had used one of her three weigh-ins at the end of the third month. I was blindfolded so I couldn’t see the number, but she definitely sounded quite pleased.

I knew if I didn't take real steps now to change the momentum, I would lose this bet quite badly.

I had to confront the hard facts, no more burying my head in the sand. One afternoon Vanessa had to go out for a few hours, so I stripped down in front of our full length mirror in the bedroom to do a thorough inspection. As much as it made my skin crawl, I had to get a good baseline so I could tell how things were going.

I raised my arms and flexed my biceps. The results weren’t great, but not disastrous either. I don’t think I lost too much muscle despite the difficulties in finding time to work out, but the definition had certainly been compromised. The same proved true for my chest, it was disturbingly resistant to any flexing although I could feel muscle there still. The layer of fat had grown thick enough to hide what was beneath.

Then the most humbling part of all - my stomach. Trying to flex my abs was truly a fool’s errand, all those huge meals had stretched them out so much I had no more muscle control. Even sucking in had sadly little effect, and I couldn’t blame that all on the fact that I was still pretty full from a big lunch.

I ran my palms along my new new paunch, it was fairly firm to the touch still. Now, though, it was simply because I was putting on weight quickly. Once my skin had stretched a bit more to compensate, I was sure it would seem rather soft and doughy.

Then I turned my back to the mirror and pinched the excess flesh gathering over the waistband of my underwear. It wasn’t too embarrassing yet, but they were definitely developing. Speaking of developing, my rear seemed a bit more substantial as well.

Sighing, I turned and faced myself again. I tried to psych myself up mentally, reminding myself what was at stake. I pictured Vanessa groaning after a huge meal, jiggling and wobbling as she struggled to fit into her jeans, complaining about how fat she felt. The momentum had to shift now, and to do that I had to be aware of what was going on. Failure wasn’t an option.


Shortly after coming out of my denial phase, I began planning ways to turn the tide in my favor. There were limited options as we ate pretty much every meal together and most days she kept me so stuffed throughout the day that doing anything physical was simply impossible. I knew I had to be vigilant and look out for every single opportunity to gain an advantage.

It was during lunch when I saw one of my first opportunities. Vanessa had made a gigantic serving of spaghetti and meatballs, saying that it would be enough for two gut-busting meals for me and several more for herself.

I had only been eating for about twenty minutes when Vanessa announced she had to use the bathroom. It wasn’t too far away so I knew that I’d hear when the toilet was flushed.

After Vanessa left the kitchen, I waited a moment before going to the sink and putting the remains from my plate into the garbage disposal. I turned back to grab some directly from the serving dish when I saw Vanessa standing in the doorway.

“Busted, Buster,” she gloated as my heart sunk. “Sit your fat ass down, you tubby little cheater. Forget about leftovers, you’re not leaving until you clear the table. And the penalty for cheating is an extra week tacked onto the end and I know I’ll enjoy having another seven days to stuff your fat gut full of food.”

Reluctantly, I sat down and watched her pile the food onto my plate. She smirked at me as I ate, and ate, and ate, and ate. Groaning as she loaded me up for the umpteenth time, I pushed the waistband of my sweats down to ease the pressure on my tender stomach. She gently rubbed my swollen middle as I forced down one bite after another, finally cramming down the last bite.

“Ooh baby,” she murmured in my ear. “You look like you’re about to . . . pop.”

I just belched and groaned pitifully, barely able to see straight.

“No matter what you do, I’m going to be better,” she purred. “The more you try to cheat, the more I’m going to punish you and stretch out your belly so that you look like you’re waddling around with triplets.”

She straightened up and walked away, remarking over her shoulder that I better be ready for dinner in a couple hours.

I spent the afternoon recovering on the couch. As much as my ego was bruised after that failure, I was still resolute in my goal of reversing the course.

Two days later I tried again. Lunch was pulled pork, chili fries, cornbread, and pasta salad. This time when Vanessa left the room I gave her a moment and then tip-toed to the bathroom to make sure she was actually in there. There was a light coming from the bottom of the door, so I hurried back to the kitchen and began shoveling food from my plate to the garbage disposal again.

“Ahem,” came a voice from the doorway.

I jumped about two feet in the air, dropping the plate in the sink where it clattered loudly.

“I thought you were in the bathroom!” I cried as I turned around, my heart still hammering in my chest.

“I know,” she grinned. “I put the light and fan on and then hid in the closet. As soon as I saw you come down the hall I knew I had you again. Now that’s an extra two weeks, you little cheater.”

“You suck,” I groused.

“Haha, obviously not,” she laughed as she walked over to me and put her hands on my stomach. “I’m obviously very good at this. And I’m happy you’re cheating, because you know what that tells me? It tells me you’re getting desperate. It tells me that you’re looking in the mirror and seeing how fat you’re getting and that you know you have to do something drastic. It tells me you know you’re losing, that I’m better than you at this, that you’re going to end up being my fat little feedee with a big ol’ gut sticking way out in front of you.”

During her monologue she slipped her hands under my shirt and was massaging my belly. She then unfastened my pants and slid them and my boxers down to my ankles. I realized I was already quite aroused when she took me in her mouth. I grabbed onto the counter as she took me over the edge into realms of pure pleasure.

“Now sit down and eat everything on the table,” she told me after I finished.

I bent forward to pull up my pants.

“Nuh-uh, you lost pants privileges for this meal,” she giggled. “Just sit yourself down and fill that chubby little belly for me.”

I just shook my head and did what I was told. Two hours later the table was clear and I was quite uncomfortably bloated. Vanessa took out her phone for an impromptu photo op.

“Don’t worry dear, these pics will be for my private collection,” she reassured me.

I could only moan as she bent over and put a lipstick print on my grossly swollen middle.


My plan to get some momentum back was obviously not going well. I settled for at least checking how much damage had already been done. On one of the rare occasions that Vanessa was gone to run some errands, I spent a while searching for the scale so I could see what I currently weighed.

I must have searched for over half an hour, all over the house, before finally admitting that she had hidden it too well. I then sat down on the couch for a bit, feeling rather full and bloated still from my oversized lunch. Telling myself I’d get up in a minute and work out, I quickly found my chin heading for my chest as I succumbed to a post-binge nap.

An hour or so later my head popped up. I checked the clock and saw that Vanessa wouldn’t be home for a little while yet. I hustled up to the bedroom to put one some clothes for a quick workout. As I got changed, I dropped my shirt onto the floor and reflected on how it was becoming somewhat uncomfortable to bend over anymore.

Bingo! I knew where the scale was hidden!

I dropped down to the floor and looked underneath the bed. I hadn’t thought of this before as our bed was only a couple inches off the ground. But there, barely visible, was the scale.

Pulling it out required a bit of stretching, wriggling, and grunting. As soon as I got it out, however, I hopped to my feet to step on.


“Again?” Vanessa asked from the doorway. “Are you just not going to learn? What is this now, three extra weeks of feeding? Do you want to try to cheat again, make it a solid month?”

I shook my head and meant it. I was done. It just wasn’t worth it. Everything I did to try and gain an advantage had royally backfired. In that moment I simply gave up.

“Put the scale back and take off all your clothes,” she commanded. “Then lie down on the bed and wait for me.”

I sighed and did as I was told. About five minutes later she returned with a sheet cake in one hand and a jug of something in the other.

“I bought this for dessert tonight,” she said, nodding toward the cake. “But it looks like fatty here wants it all now. And this jug has a gallon of my famous weight gain shake.”

I swallowed, looking at my slightly domed midsection and dreading how it would look once this feeding was over. Vanessa began, alternating forkfuls of cake with chugs of the shake. She was relentless, feeding me constantly as I became full, then stuffed, then painfully bloated.

Sweating and panting, I could barely accept the last bite. I moaned in relief as she began rubbing my achingly stretched stomach, now sticking quite high up.

“I’d be worried that I was being mean to you if it wasn’t so obvious you enjoyed this,” Vanessa said.

“Enjoyed *hic* this?” I asked. “Are you *brrrp* crazy?”

“Well what do you call this?” she replied, gently swatting a certain engorged appendage.

I was shocked. In the midst of all the discomfort, I hadn’t realized that I had become quite physically aroused. What did this mean? Was it just some Pavlovian response?

“I always knew you’d make a great feedee,” Vanessa continued. “You thought you enjoyed feeding others, but I knew that was simply a way to disguise your own desire to be fed.”

I shook my head. “N-no, no, I d-don’t want, I mean, I definitely don’t-”

She put a finger against my lips.

“Shh baby, it’s alright. I know what you want. I know that you want to be fed and fattened. I know you want someone who will encourage you to gorge yourself, to mold your body into something wonderful. I know you want someone to celebrate with you as each pound is added, as button or seam gives way, as your pecs plump into moobs and your belly swells out into a huge, spherical gut and your bum and thighs thicken and grow. I’m here to help you baby, don’t you worry.”

I wanted to protest, to declare that she was quite mistaken, that I did in fact long to feed and fatten her . . . but her hands had moved to a different type of stroking and I couldn’t get my thoughts together.

As she skillfully worked her magic and transported me into a realm of pure bliss, I could hear her voice continuing . . .

“Fatter and plumper, eating and growing, so big and fat and bloated and heavy . . .”

Several hours later I awoke, feeling quite full and very confused. I tried to banish the odd memories from my mind, assuring myself that everything Vanessa said was simply a calculated ploy to lower my defenses.

As I slowly swung my feet off the bed and rose to a seated position, I realized that my belly was beginning to touch my thighs. Whether I wanted to be a feedee or not, Vanessa was certainly making sure I acted like one.

And I had no idea how to stop it.


Near the end of the fourth month, I took one of my rare trips into the office. Because of how we were structured, I hardly ever saw many of my colleagues. I usually looked forward to seeing one of my co-workers whenever I had the chance, however. Her name was Julie and she was the most pleasantly plump blonde I had ever seen. With fantastic green eyes and a very pretty face that was always smiling, she would have been a treat to see each time regardless.

However, once you added in that she was probably carrying a good 170-180 pounds on her 5'5"ish frame, she became quite a knockout in my eyes. She carried it well, distributed pretty evenly all around her luscious form. A full chest was matched by a rather spherical belly that reached equally far outwards, balanced by wide hips, very thick thighs, and an ass that quite filled out whatever pants she was wearing.

On this particular trip into the office, however, I had rather mixed feelings. Would she notice my gain? It was impossible to ignore at this point, even wearing slightly loose clothing couldn't disguise the fact that I was significantly heavier.

"Hey Darren!" came a familiar voice as I walked into the office.

"Oh, hi Julie," I replied, trying unsuccessfully to suck in my gut as she approached.

Her eyes widened slightly as she neared, seeming to especially fixate for a moment on my rounded midsection.

"So, uh, what's new? It's been a while."

"Yeah, it certainly has" I agreed, not willing to bring up my gain and hoping she wouldn't either.

She was just as plump as I remembered, but I was forced to consider that I was close to catching up to her.

“Still enjoying working from home?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s great,” I replied, thinking to myself that this past four months probably would have been much more bearable if I could get out of the house more often.

“It is, I like it a lot. Although . . . I find myself snacking all day long,” Julie confessed. “It’s just way too easy to go into the kitchen to grab some chips or something, and then the next thing you know they’re all gone. I don’t think I’m going to lose any weight, that’s for sure.”

Upon closer inspection, it did seem that maybe she had put on another 5-10 pounds. Normally it would have me jumping for joy, but I was pretty sure I had put on close to twice that.

“Yeah, ah, I guess that’s how it goes,” I chuckled awkwardly. “So, um, I’ll see you around.”

“Sure, definitely, I’ll see ya,” she said, giving me another once over.

I walked as quickly as I could to my seldom used cubicle, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder to see if she was looking at me. I didn’t actively avoid her for the rest of the day, but I certainly didn’t seek her out either. While I would usually indulge in some platonic flirting, the sight of her did too much to remind me of my own current state.

The silver lining was that I was able to limit how much I ate during the day. As soon as I got home, however, Vanessa greeted me at the door wearing nothing but an apron.

“Oh darling, you must be starving!” she exclaimed, pressing herself to me and kissing me on the cheek. “Come with me, your dinner awaits!”

I couldn’t help but leer slightly at her luscious ass as it bounced up and down as she led me to the kitchen. Waiting for me there was a gigantic roast with mashed potatoes, rolls, and vegetables.

“Sit down, sit down,” Vanessa urged, tucking a napkin into my shirt like some parody of an old TV show. “Let me get my big handsome fella a plateful of supper, I know he didn’t eat nearly enough today so we’re going to have to make up for lost time.”

I bit back a despairing groan as she piled my plate high. Resignedly, I dug in.

The rest of the evening was a blur. At one point I remember sitting on the couch with my pants around my ankles, an apron-less Vanessa kneeling in front of me, the taste of apple crumble and vanilla ice cream still dancing across my tongue. The night ended, as they all seemed to do, with me laying on my back in bed, rubbing a very swollen stomach stuffed full of fattening fare and wondering what would come tomorrow.

Needless to say, the fourth month of our bet didn’t end as I had planned.


Well-Known Member
Jun 2, 2010
Chapter 4

As the fifth month began, I found myself reaching the acceptance stage. Really, I just wanted the whole thing over with. The last four months seemed like an eternity, and somehow the next two months seemed to stretch even longer before me.

This was not helped by one of our followers on the blog suggesting that I try a series of food challenges. She even provided a link to a website that had a whole list of challenges offered all over the world. Vanessa decided that every two or three days she would prepare one from the list for me to complete.

The first challenge was five huge buttermilk pancakes, five strips of bacon, five links of sausage, ham, steak, and five eggs over easy, all served over a pile of home fries. And I had an hour to eat it all. If I finished any of these challenges within the specified time frame, my prize would be six straight hours of no eating.

“Are you ready?” Vanessa asked, one hand on the timer.

I glanced at the video camera that was filming and nodded. She clicked the timer and I began eating. For better or worse, the last four months had really expanded my capacity and taught me how to put down an incredible amount of food in one sitting. This particular challenge looked rather intimidating, but I just tried to keep my mind clear and eat steadily.

At the half hour mark I was making good progress, but it was starting to sit pretty heavy.

“Don’t stop now, you gotta push through,” Vanessa cheered me on excitedly as I paused to push the waistband of my sweats beneath my expanding midsection.

Push through I did, but at the fifty minute mark beads of sweat were popping out on my forehead as I tried to cram more into my achingly distended belly.

At 58:54 I put the last bite into my mouth and grimly swallowed.

“Yay! You did it!” Vanessa applauded with a grin. “Now stand up and show off for the camera.”

I grunted as I rose to my feet, swaying unsteadily. My overloaded gut jutted out in front me, packed full with about 4 pounds of breakfast foods. Vanessa picked up the video camera and made sure to get every angle possible while I just stood there and concentrated on my breathing.

“So what are you going to do with your six free hours?” she finally asked.

“I’m going to go take a nap,” I said thickly, tottering out to the couch.

A few days later it was a deep dish 20” pizza with so much cheese and various toppings that it weighed over 5 pounds. Somehow I finished it all, but looked and felt massively pregnant afterward. Fortunately it was the last meal of the day, but I still felt uncomfortably full and heavy the next morning when I awoke.

These “belly busters”, as Vanessa so fondly called them, certainly did their job. My already impressive capacity seemed to increase exponentially. The logical consequence was that my waistline followed suit.

She also decided to use her second weigh-in. Again, I couldn’t see the number, but she smug smile afterward definitely got under my skin a little.

As the month progressed, Vanessa chose more often to have me wear the new clothes we had gotten a couple months ago. They were getting quite snug at an alarming rate, something she played up quite a bit while documenting my gain for the blog.

One Wednesday evening I was finishing up yet another disgustingly large meal. Normal procedure at that point was to lean back in the chair, unfasten the straining clasp on my slacks, and spread my legs slightly as I gently rubbed my swollen belly.

Several pounds of pasta sat heavy in my gut and I no longer made any attempts to disguise how full I was.

“Have enough to eat?” Vanessa asked with an irritatingly smug grin.

“Unngh, stuffed,” I grunted.

“That’s what I like to hear,” she said with a wink. “C’mon, let’s get you to the couch.”

I think as much as anything she enjoyed seeing me struggle to my feet after being forced to gorge myself at the dinner table. The days of mindlessly springing to my feet were long gone, replaced by a slow, halting process.

First was the shoving of the chair back from the table. With an overfull stomach rebelling at every move, this was not as easy a task as it sounds. Then I’d put a hand on the seat of my chair so I could push off and hopefully achieve some forward momentum. I’d finish by putting my other hand on the table and using it complete my rise to a vertical position.

Without fail my overstuffed gut would clutch and cramp as I slowly maneuvered myself up, often causing me to groan pathetically. Once on my feet I could only move in a slow shuffle, bent slightly forward to relieve the uncomfortable pressure on my stomach.

Once we got to the living room, I gently lowered myself to the couch, trying not to jostle my sloshing gut. After a little shifting and a couple discreet belches, I was almost comfortable.

Vanessa sat next to me with her laptop appropriately situated atop her lap. I glanced over and saw that she had brought up our blog.

“Hmm, we have a bunch of new comments and messages,” she told me. “Wow, the gals are really loving this food challenge thing. PrettyPrincess34 said it looks like you’re getting fatter by the day and wonders if you can see your feet anymore.”

“I can see them fine,” I grunted.

“Hmm, maybe not for much longer,” Vanessa giggled, giving me a quick glance. “Anyway, BHMLovinGal said she really likes all your little groans as you try to finish the challenges. Says it gets her so excited to see you so uncomfortably full and still forcing down a bit more. I definitely agree, it’s super sexy.”

I just shook my head slightly, having no reply.

“Let’s see,” she continued. “LisaJane97 says ‘Darren, so hot to see you pack on the pounds. The thought you being stuffed all day long and watching your tight body get so big and soft is so hot to me. There’s nothing better than seeing you stand up after one of your feedings with your big gut sticking way out. Keep up the good work, can’t wait to see you get huge!’ That’s nice of her to say, isn’t it?”

My face felt a bit warm, all those teasing remarks were starting to hit rather close to home.

“Hmm, how about one more. JillyJiggles says ‘Vanessa, you are doing such a great job of fattening Darren up like a little piggy. I can hardly believe how much he’s gained already. It’s like his body has always been waiting for someone to feed it and fatten it up, he’s obviously always been meant to be a feedee. Looking forward to many more milestones.’”

I bristled slightly at the suggestion that I was becoming a perfect feedee, but I reminded myself that getting worked up was probably just what Vanessa wanted. We lapsed into a bit of silence for a while, interrupted only by the occasional grumbling of my stomach as it tried to digest yet another massive meal.

“Hmm, we also have some interesting requests,” Vaness shared after a little while. “Becky33 would like to see you do a beer bong, but with weight gain shake instead of beer. I think that’s a good idea, don’t you?”

“Not really,” I grumbled, causing her to laugh and poke my love handle.

“I guess you wouldn’t, Mr. Porky,” she teased. “Let’s see, ChubbyChasingCutie wants to see an outgrowns set. She thinks it would be really funny to see you, quote, ‘pack all that wobbly fat into some old clothes’, unquote. She doubts you’ll be able to pull your pants up over your fatter ass.”

She smirked a bit as she glanced over at me, but I refused to give a reaction.

“And lastly, ooh, I really love this one. CindyHoo wants to see you gorge yourself on fast food while wearing your old workout clothes. Wow, that’s really hot, we’ll do that tomorrow. I think right now we should do some photos of you trying on old clothes.”

“Now?” I asked, loathe to get up from the couch.

“Yeah,” she grinned. “I want to do it while you’re still bloated from dinner. It’ll just add that extra bit of hotness.”

It took me a second to get standing again, and then I followed her up to our bedroom. I just stood there for a few minutes as she rummaged through my closet, tossing out pieces of clothing that I had not worn in several months.

“Alright, that should do it I think,” she finally concluded. “Let me get the camera set up and you can start. And I changed my mind, I think this will be even better as video.”

I just sighed and started taking off my clothes as Vanessa began narrating for the camera.

“So we got a few outfits out of the back of Darren’s closet for him to try on. These are all his original clothes that fit him quite well just a few months ago. It’ll be interesting to see how well they fit him now after over 4 months of gut-busting meals. It might be my imagination, but he’s not looking quite as trim as he used to.”

This particular barb coincided with me shucking off my pants, so I stood there only in a pair of boxers. It obviously wasn’t her imagination, it was painfully obvious that I had packed on some weight for sure.

I glanced to the side where a full length mirror leaned against the wall. My stomach stuck out considerably, not helped of course by how full it was. Even empty, though, I knew I now had an actual gut there. Love handles wrapped around to the side, pouring over the snug waistband of my underwear. Speaking of, my boxers were noticeably snug around my rear and thighs, it was probably time to go up a size on those. Most distressing, possibly, was soft roundness of my pecs. Deposits of fat had accumulated there, giving them a more “peaked” shape.

I looked away before I got too depressed and grabbed an old pair of jeans. They looked surprisingly small given that I used to slide into them without a second thought only months ago.

“And now Darren is trying on an old pair of jeans,” Vanessa continued for the benefit of the camera. “You can see his belly getting in the way as he tries bend over to put his feet in. Pretty soon he’s going to have to find a new way to get dressed if he keeps porking out like this. There they go up over his knees, and now the thighs. Uh-oh, looks like he’s really tugging at them now. Aww, my chubby hubby has thunder thighs! Hehe, look at all that jiggling as he jumps up and down.”

I stopped and glared at her for a moment, knowing she wasn’t filming my face. The jeans had gotten rather stuck around my upper thighs and I was bouncing a bit to pull them up. Going through this was bad enough, but to have her tease and film me was downright humiliating.

“C’mon baby, you’re almost there,” Vanessa urged. “Just a little more.”

With a final grunt and tug, I finally had them all the way up. I couldn’t see well over the crest of my belly, but I knew the two flaps were nowhere close to meeting.

“And now the big test, can he button them?” Vanessa asked rhetorically.

I sucked in as much as possible and tugged the flaps together. My face must have been turning purple as I held my breath and pulled as hard I could.

No luck, they simply wouldn’t meet.

“Hehe, you might have to lie down and try it,” Vanessa giggled.

Reluctantly I did so, but no amount of contortion could get that button anywhere close to its corresponding hole. Finally admitting defeat, I got back to my feet and grabbed a t-shirt from the pile of clothes. It was unusually snug around my chest and arms, and unfortunately not because I was more muscular. The hem of the shirt stopped around my navel, leaving much of my stomach bare.

“Wow, I honestly don’t think I had realized how much bigger you were,” Vanessa commented. “But look at that, this is incredible. You’re nowhere close to fitting in your old clothes.”

I just sighed again and began struggling into the next outfit. About twenty minutes later Vanessa finally called it quits and took her camera straight to the computer to begin editing the video.

For a few moments after she was gone I looked at myself in the mirror, once again down to just my boxers. I wasn’t sure how much of Vanessa’s narration was just for the benefit of those watching, but I had a hard time believing she didn’t realize how much I had gained. Only about a month and a half remained, and it wasn’t looking good.


The next day Vanessa wanted to do another of the requests - making me eat a ridiculous amount of fast food wearing my old workout clothes. She ran out to a local burger joint and came back with three grease-soaked bags that were overflowing with double cheeseburgers, french fries, and onion rings. To wash it all down she brought me two vanilla shakes and two chocolate shakes.

I felt a little silly even before we began. My gym shorts sat beneath my new paunch and clung a bit to my thighs and rear. Even though they had an elastic waistband, I felt a definite pinch. My shirt, which was one of those spandex-y type tops that whisked away sweat and whatever else, barely stretched over the entirety of my protruding middle.

Once again Vanessa pressed record and gave me the thumb’s up to begin. I grabbed a burger in one hand and a handful of fries in the other and began shoveling them in. It seemed like I ate for a quite a while before the first bag was empty.

After draining the first shake, I dug into the second bag. My top was already sliding up my swelling midsection, so every few minutes I had to reach down with my salty, greasy fingers and tug it down again.

And of course Vanessa kept up her usual patter throughout.

“Mmm, that is no longer the body of a guy who works out every day, is it?” she asked. “I’ll definitely put up some before and afters of Darren wearing his workout clothes on the site. This is definitely more like the ‘before’ picture on one of those weight loss infomercials.”

As I neared the end of the second bag, I was really starting to feel overfull and bloated. Too much grease and salt were really taking their toll, I had even given up on pulling my shirt back down as it inexorably slid upwards.

After my fifth (sixth?) burger, I paused for a moment to rub my sides and wait for it to settle a bit. A couple belches helped slightly.

“Ooh, sounds like the tank is getting full,” Vanessa continued. “Just imagine how he’s going to feel after gorging on all this greasy, salty, fatty fast food. Poor baby is going to be a real beached whale after all of this.”

I wanted to disagree, but the heavy swollen feeling in my gut testified to the accuracy of her statement. The third bag went slower and I even began to break a sweat from the effort. I knew all the women who watched the video would no doubt be enjoying my labored breathing, low moans, and frequent belches. I was just way too full to care about disguising how I felt.

“Mmm, getting close there,” Vanessa remarked as I was about halfway through. “Tell you what, I’ll even give you a little help.”

After making sure the camera was still angled properly, she came around and stood behind me. As I continued to eat, she wrapped her arms around me and began rubbing my stomach.

“Wow, someone sure is feeling tight,” she teased. “Your little belly is packed really full, isn’t it?”

As if to illustrate, she thumped my stomach lightly. It certainly felt and sounded as if it was packed solid.

“Alright, this shirt isn’t really covering anything up anymore, let’s get it off.”

I looked down and realized she was right, it had completely given up and my entire gut was bare. It was actually a struggle to put my arms up over my head so she could pull my shirt off.

“Much better,” she said.

I picked up another burger as her hands continued their massage, occasionally drifting up to grab or jiggle a pec. At long last the entire meal was gone and I had only half a milkshake left.

“Chug chug chug!” Vanessa chanted.

I was done for, ready to pop. It was a superhuman effort just to stay standing. Reluctantly, I took the top of the cup and raised it to my mouth. I wasn’t sure what would happen first - brain freeze or a stomach rupture.

Fortunately I was spared both, but barely. I swayed on my feet as Vanessa kept rubbing my belly for a bit, forcing up several rumbling belches and giggling about how pregnant I looked.

Finally she helped me just lay down on my weight bench. She turned the recording off and then took a number of pictures of me laying there with a gigantically swollen gut sticking straight up.

“This is the most action that weight bench has gotten in a while, isn’t it babe?” she laughed. “You went from bicep curls and bench presses to burger binges and chugging milkshakes. From six-pack abs and muscular pecs to a beer gut and man tits. And it is sooooo hot.”


Two days later it was the weight gain shake request. Vanessa bought a beer bong just for the occasion and fixed up several liters of her special super rich high calorie “Fat-Shake”.

I won’t go too in to detail, as the whole thing was a bit of a blur. Vanessa had me wear my boxers plus a button-down shirt that could barely be done up over my paunch. When I sat down the buttons gaped noticeably and I was pretty sure I knew where she was going with this.

After getting the camera setup to start recording, Vanessa had me put the tube in my mouth and started pouring in the first liter of the shake. It was actually pretty tasty - very chocolatey and very, very rich. She kept up a steady pour and I gulped it down fairly easily, another sign that my stomach had been very stretched out by all the feedings.

It started sitting pretty heavy shortly after that, however. Each swallow become progressively more difficult as the shake seemed to bloat me up quite rapidly.

“Do you know how many calories are in this?” Vanessa asked at one point. “Let’s just say most bodybuilders wouldn’t even recommend this many calories per day during peak training. No, we’re doing a different type of body building here. All these extra calories are going to turn into wobbly fat. You’re going to pop buttons and split seams as your little gut turns into a huge belly that looks nine months pregnant. Your jiggly pecs will keep getting plumper and your upper arms will be meaty and toneless. Judging from how you’ve gained so far, I think your ass and thighs are also going to get a good share so that you don’t end up too top-heavy.”

I just concentrated on swallowing the seemingly endless river of thick, fattening liquid. My sides were stretched and aching and I was feeling full as a tick when we finally got to the last liter.

Vanessa wouldn’t let me take the tube out, but I could only manage a few gulps at a time. My nostrils flared as I breathed heavily, trying to will my way to the end.

“Alright, just a bit more,” Vanessa said as she poured the last of it into the funnel.

My head was swimming and my stomach hurt, but I wanted to get it over with. I flexed my stomach muscles as much as I could and began to take one big swallow after another. I could see the tube draining from the corner of my eye and it spurred me on, even though my eyes were watering and I was ready to burst.

With a monumental effort I sucked the rest of it down. Vanessa took the tube from my mouth and two things happened simultaneously.

The incredible pressure had built up to such a point that I was powerless to contain the massive belch that exploded out of me. Also, my abdominals gave way completely and my well overfilled belly surged out, causing all the buttons on my shirt to pop off and scatter all over the floor.

All I could do was gasp for breath and gently rub my blown out gut.

“That . . . was . . . the . . . hottest . . . thing . . . ever,” Vanessa declared, her expression wide-eyed and full of lust.

I moaned weakly, trying in vain to find a less uncomfortable position. I think Vanessa, as aroused as she was, felt a little bad that I was in such rough shape. She turned the camera off and got some oil, which she gently rubbed into my distended stomach.

“Ah . . . ooooh . . . *hic* ahh,” I groaned. “Ungh, so *brrp* bloated. I’m going *brrrrp* to ex-*hic*-plode.”

“Anything I can do to relieve the pressure?” she asked.

For a moment I hesitated. Truth be told there was a release I desperately needed, but I was loathe to admit it. The pressure was unbearable, however, and I was too weak to resist.

“Actually . . .” I told her, guiding one of her hands down.

“Oh,” she said, her eyebrows raising and the corner of her mouth quirking up. “I see. Oh baby, you’re like steel down here.”

I just grunted as she softly stroked me through the fabric of my underwear.

“Well, let’s get you taken care of, shall we?” Vanessa winked at me.

After she slid my boxers off she oiled up her hands and began. I knew she liked to draw things and out tease me to make me beg for it, but this time she was mercifully quick. Maybe she realized I had no stamina for anything longer. After gently cleaning me up, she helped me move into a position for a nap.

The next day I felt five pounds heavier, so maybe Vanessa’s claims about the calorie content of the shake wasn’t as outrageous as I hoped. Even though I hated it when Vanessa made the comparison, I had to admit that it did almost feel like I was pregnant. I now realized why women groused about feeling massive, there was something about gaining weight so quickly that really made you feel heavier than you were.

I took some consolation that I wasn’t waddling, but with the weight of my gut and my thighs starting to brush together, my gait was a bit off.

This stupid bet couldn’t end soon enough.



Well-Known Member
Jun 2, 2010
Chapter 4 cont.

“What kind of feeder would I be if I didn’t take full advantage of every feeder’s favorite holiday?” Vanessa asked. “This day is a monument to gluttony and we are going to enjoy it fully.”

“But all day?” I asked. “And an entire Thanksgiving meal just for me?”

Even by Vanessa’s standards it seemed a little ridiculous. Since Thanksgiving was tomorrow I was anticipating something holiday-themed for my feedings, but this was excessive. Vanessa was going to make an entire Thanksgiving meal (huge turkey, squash, mashed potatoes, stuffing, corn, green bean casserole, rolls, cranberry sauce, a ton of gray, and two pies) and then I had to eat it all before midnight. I knew that gave me about 11 hours since we were going to eat at 1 o’clock, but I was a bit worried.

“Don’t be a baby,” she chided. “It’ll be fine. I’ve always wanted to stuff you like a turkey and now we have the perfect opportunity.”

“I think you’ve stuffed me plenty,” I replied, patting my rounded midsection.

“That’s true,” she chuckled. “I’ve stuffed you good. But that’s the wonderful thing about this bet - I get to keep stuffing you. One belt-busting meal after another.”

She poked my belly for punctuation.

“Fine,” I relented. “It’s true, that is part of the bet. I just . . . nevermind.”

“What?” she asked, a glint in her eye as she put both hands on my belly. “Just . . . wish you had never agreed to this? Just didn’t know you’d get so fat? Just didn’t think I’d really stuff you full of fattening foods day after day after day until none of your clothes fit and you jiggle when you walk and it’s getting hard to get up from the couch? Is that it?”

At this point she had molded her form to mine, her sexy body pressed tight into me as her hands reached around to knead my rear.

“Tomorrow,” she whispered sultrily in my ear, “I am going to feed . . . you . . . right . . . up.”

I gulped, feeling a bit nervous about tomorrow but even more worried that I was so turned on. Vanessa wiggled her hips against me and giggled as she felt my reaction.

“We’ll take care of that tomorrow,” she promised me as she pulled away. “You certainly can’t say that I don’t reward you well for being such a good little eater.”

She walked away and I was left there feeling betrayed by my own body. Then my stomach growled and I cursed this stupid bet once again.

The next day was a feast for the ages. Just like she promised, Vanessa delivered a quintessential Thanksgiving meal with all the trimmings. She had even gotten those catering dishes that kept food warm over an extended period of time.

Looking at the spread laid before me as I sat down, it truly seemed an insurmountable challenge. My strategy was to take down as much as possible at first, then steadily pick away for the rest of the day.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for this,” Vanessa told me from across the table as I began filling my plate. “This has always been a special holiday to me, as I’m sure it has to you. Now I get to live out my dream. My hot husband comes into the kitchen, his fat little gut already sticking out because he’s packed on some pounds. Then I get to watch him fill up his plate time after time until he’s in a total food coma, pants unbuttoned and everything. This is so great!”

I couldn’t pretend that I hadn’t often had the same fantasy, just that my wife would be the one stuffing herself. Soon enough my plate was overflowing and I dug in as Vanessa smiled and watched. She had taken some food for herself of course, telling me that she’d “help out” so I wouldn’t have as much to eat. I knew that meant she’d have a normal modest sized meal and then watch in delight as I tried to force the rest down.

The first serving went down easily, helped by the fact that the food truly was delicious. And honestly I had always loved Thanksgiving foods. I loaded up on seconds and then thirds. Feeling rather full, I served myself another plateful and loosened my belt a notch. My khakis, bought by Vanessa for this occasion, had started out with an extra inch of room in the waist.

That room was gone. As was most of the room in my stomach. Halfway through my fourth serving I loosened my belt again and took a few deep breaths.

During the fifth serving I had to unbuckle my belt completely and unfasten my pants. Flushed and a little woozy, I still took a sixth plate, causing Vanessa to bite her lip.

Despite the fact that I was packed full and stretched tight, there was still a very intimidating amount of food left on the table. After my sixth plate, I was beyond done. I decided to rest for a while before beginning again, reclining back in my chair and massaging my swollen middle.

It was close to two hours before I could pick up my fork again, and I made myself another plate as Vanessa watched. And so it continued as I alternated between topping myself up and resting, over and over and over . . .

A triple hiccup roused me from my stupor. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed or whether I had actually passed out for a bit. I gazed blearily at the table, it finally looked like I was making a good dent in it.

My gut swelled out like I had swallowed a watermelon. The buttons on my shirt were visibly straining, while my pants had been unzipped long ago and the flaps were separated by several inches of bloated stomach.

Vanessa was staring at me hungrily, licking her lips. I knew that I was fulfilling one of her wildest fantasies, and I tried to ignore that as I reached forward to scoop out the last of the mashed potatoes.

Bending forward had become a real chore, the pressure on my overfilled stomach was rather distressing. I managed to get my plate filled again, having no idea at this point how many times I had refilled it.

“Here, let’s get those empty dishes out of the way,” Vanessa volunteered as I picked away.

She moved the empty dishes off the table and moved the remaining ones closer so that they were in easy reach. Easy reach, at least, for someone who wasn’t so bloated that they were practically immobile.

At one point I thought for sure I was sweating gravy. I was so full that my back hurt. I was so full that my throat was sore. When I got to the point that I only had a little turkey and a few rolls left, I found myself worrying about stretch marks.

“Almost there,” Vanessa sang, looking the opposite of how I felt.

She dumped the rest on my plate and covered it all liberally with gravy. My heavy arm ferried one bite after another, my overworked jaw aching as I chewed and swallowed. I began to wonder what the front page would look like the next day.

“Area Man Eats Self to Death”

“Glutton Bursts from Thanksgiving Feast”

“World’s Fullest Man Literally Rolled Out of Kitchen”

And then . . . it was all gone.

I could scarcely believe it.

“I’m *brrrp* done,” I gasped.

In one day, I had eaten an entire Thanksgiving meal. And boy did I feel like it.

“That was impressive,” Vanessa purred. “You ate it all . . . almost.”


“Oh Darren, don’t tell me you forgot about dessert,” she teased.

The expression on my face must have conveyed my shock and despair, as Vanessa laughed richly.

“Oh yes, I made these little pies just for you,” she said as she brought the pumpkin and apple pies to the table. “Don’t worry though, I won’t make you eat them yourself.”

“Thank you,” I grunted, grateful for small mercies.

“I’m going to feed them to you.”


She scooted a chair next to mine and put a slice of pumpkin pie on a plate. Spearing a forkful, she lifted it to my mouth. I opened reluctantly, barely chewing as the flaky crust and cool, creamy pumpkin filling dissolved in my mouth.

It all got rather blurry after that. For a while I think I hallucinated that I was inflating like Violet Beauregarde, but into a giant pumpkin or apple. My entire body was throbbing in time with my pulse, I felt swollen and overripe.

“That’s it,” Vanessa announced.

I realized that she was now standing and pointing the camera at my slumped form. After snapping a few pictures, she sat back down to show them to me.

It was worse than I had feared. Apparently she had unbuttoned my shirt at some point, so there was nothing to hide my vastly bloated gut that would put any pregnant woman’s to shame. There was some pie smeared around my mouth and I looked every bit like someone who had just crammed down an entire Thanksgiving meal on their own.

“I think it’s my favorite picture so far,” she giggled.

I had no response, my chin dropping to my chest as the weight of my forced binge dragged me down to unconsciousness. I slept the entire night in that chair, but quite fitfully. Several times I awoke from a dream of being crushed, but realized shortly after waking that it was just the pressure of my heavy stomach pressing down on me.

In the morning I was roused from a light doze by Vanessa.

“Have you been down here all night?” she asked, sounds a little worried.

I nodded.

“Aw, that can’t be comfortable. Let me help you up and we can go take a shower together, then you can rest in bed.”

With her help, I was able to finally get to my feet after who knows how many hours. I lurched slightly before finding my balance, the weight of my packed full stomach pulling heavily forward. Vanessa assisted me in getting out of my clothes and led me up to the bathroom. I moved at a slow waddle, legs stiff and back aching.

Our shower together was nice and relaxing but lacked its usual eroticism. She washed me as I luxuriated under the warm spray, tugging at me occasionally but without her usual insistence.

After drying off I gently laid myself down on our bed, quickly discovering that sleeping on my back wouldn’t be an option. Vanessa helped me turn on my side, my still distended belly spilling out in front of me. I groaned with pleasure as she began kneading my back, working out each knot and kink.

At some point I drifted back to sleep, this time a much more pleasant slumber.

When I awoke some hours later Vanessa was waiting with some broth. The rest of the day she only let me sip a bit of broth and eat a few crackers to relieve my overtaxed stomach. To my surprise, she actually apologized for pushing me too far and promised that there would not be a repeat of that during the rest of the bet.

At the end of the day I was feeling mostly recovered but still looked and felt quite puffy. I wasn’t sure if I was retaining water or really had packed on several pounds just from one day’s unending binge.

“Since you were in pretty rough shape last night you never got your reward,” Vanessa reminded me when we were getting ready for bed.

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” I replied. “I think you owe me.”

“I think I do,” she purred. “Come on over here, big boy.”

She stayed just out of reach as she disrobed slowly, her fingers trailing across newly bared flesh to draw my eyes to every seductive peak and valley. My breathing became heavy and it was all I could do to keep myself from reaching for her.

Once free of every stitch, she closed the space between us and began undressing me as well.

“Ooh baby, look at you,” she murmured. “I can’t believe how hot you are, you’ve become so round . . . so soft . . . mmm, and so hard too.”

My shirt fell to the ground as her hands cupped my softened chest, ran down my protruding paunch, and slid inside the waistband of my shorts. She slid them down to my ankles and I stepped out of them. On her way back up, she pressed kiss after kiss against my fattened form.

“Lay down,” she whispered.

I quickly obeyed, not even paying attention to how much I jiggled as I hopped onto the bed.

This time she took her time with me, expertly bringing me to the brink repeatedly before slacking off. Before long I was clawing at the sheets and begging incoherently for release. Still she teased me, drawing it out longer and longer until the last possible moment.

With a fierce grin and delighted growl, she finally took me over the edge, wringing from me every last drop. Minutes, or years, passed before I caught my breath and came back from whatever realm of pure pleasure she had driven me into.

“Worth it?” she asked, her hair falling over her face to hide one eye.

I weakly nodded, feeling something shift in the balance as I did so. But I couldn’t deny the truth - it was totally worth it.
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Well-Known Member
Jun 6, 2014
Love the development! Can't wait to read more


Well-Known Member
Apr 23, 2007
i love it can´t wait for your next chapters .....:) to come

i really love this story ^^

would be lovely to see him struggle for some final desperate exercises to keep his weight under 30 pounds in the last weeks or days only for him realizing he got so lazy and out of shape it ´s much harder than he thought and vanessa make false encuragement to him that this chubby guy at least will have the willpower to sta under 30 lbs ^^ very well knowing of those extra weeks h forgot about :_)

e really great story ^^

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