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

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snr6424

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~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.”

~*~*~*~*~*~
 

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