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BHM The Apprentice (young BHM, crafty older FFA, WG)

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Fiji

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May 3, 2014
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210
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Jobless

There I was, two months removed from college, unemployed and with few prospects. As my dad reminded me constantly, I guess that's what I should have expected, having spent five years at an expensive liberal arts college in the Northeast gaining a degree in English lit. And with at best a middling GPA grad school really wasn't in the works either.

I was living at home in Mount Vernon, Virginia (yes, that Mount Vernon, in a subdivision only a couple of miles away from G Dub's colonial mansion), spending most of my time playing video games, surfing big girl porn on the Internet, and eating myself fatter. Not a bad life actually! Except for my parents nagging at me to get off my *** and find a job.

My dad worked in downtown D.C. and he was always telling me that I needed "to pound the turf," that's how he found his first job when he was my age. I finally got tired of his nagging, so today I awoke early and planned to ride downtown with him, armed with a briefcase (one of my dad's old ones) full of resumes.

I put on my best suit, which while a bit snug still fit OK. It was a very nice navy blue Hartmarx model that my dad had bought for me on sale at Nordstrom while I was home last Christmas. I matched it with an 18 and a half white dress shirt that still had plenty of neck room and a snappy repp tie in my school colors, burgundy and navy. My old college girlfriend, now back home in Chicago working for an accounting firm, had loved me in that outfit and I looked pretty good, if I do say so myself.

Dad and I talked on the way up the George Washington Parkway toward the 14th Street Bridge to cross the Potomac into the District, and he seemed pretty pleased that I was finally taking some personal initiative. He even offered to buy me another interview suit, noting that the one from last Christmas probably needed letting out. I thanked him and said that would be great.

As we got to his office at 15th and K, he let me out before pulling into the parking deck underneath. I started walking around a bit trying to figure out where to go, then I eyed a Wall Street Deli and decided to go in for a cup of coffee and maybe even a second breakfast. That was around 8:30 and before I knew it 10 o'clock rolled around and I decided I needed to stop procrastinating (but only after consuming three cups of coffee, a breakfast biscuit, a piece of coffeecake, a scone, and a chocolate croissant).

I headed across K Street and south down 15th toward the Treasury, then for some unknown reason took a left onto Eye Street heading toward 14th. As I was walking aimlessly I spied the window of a custom men's tailor shop with a couple of the most handsome suits I'd ever seen.

I was mesmerized by the fabric and lingered a while in front of the window taking it all in. You see, despite being a fat tub of lard, I am also kind of a clothes horse, constantly spending what little money I have on new slacks and shoes and the occasional jaunty sportcoat.

I guess I lingered too long for then a beautiful woman, I guessed her to be in her late 30s or maybe as old as 40, and tiny in statute, maybe 5'2" or 5'3", and 110 pounds soaking wet, stepped out the door and inquired whether I wanted to come in and check out her merchandise.

I thanked her but said I was right out of college and probably couldn't afford custom clothes. "Nonsense," she said and grabbed my hand and led me inside.

Though she was probably at least fifteen years older than me, I couldn't take my eyes off her rockin' bod. I'd always dreamed in high school and college about getting it on with a hot MILF like her and here she was standing in front of me!

She broke the ice, "I'm Lulu and I own this place, and you are?" "Ben," I said. "Well, Ben, right out of college, I'll tell you what, let's take you into the back and take some measurements, that way we'll have them on file when you're finally ready to order some custom clothes." "Are you sure?," I asked, "I don't want to put you out because that will probably be a long time, given that I don't even have a job yet."

She smiled a huge smile and said, "Ben, honey, I have great faith in you ... now come on back and slip your jacket and slacks off for me."

As I slipped out of my suit, Lulu asked, "so Ben, where did you go to college?" "Middlebury, up in Vermont," I answered. "And your major?" "English literature." At that, Lulu smiled again and said "no wonder you don't have a job, but I do know a few people around town and may be able to help you find something." "That would be great," I said excitedly. "No need to thank me," she replied, "I look at it as a way to ensure that you have enough money to buy clothes from me!"

I chuckled and said "consider the first suit bought and paid for if you help me find a job."

"Now young Ben, let's get down to business. I think we should measure your waist first, so lift up your arms." As I did so, she started to wrap the tape measure around me and I got some stirring down below. She was measuring on the outside of my shirt, then decided "I'll tell you what Ben, to get the most accurate measure, I need you to slip that shirt off."

Lulu could tell I was a little apprehensive and said "don't worry, yours won't be the first male belly I've seen in my line of work." Thus reassured, I unbuttoned my shirt, but still sucked in my considerable gut as much as I could.

Lulu wrapped the tape around again and giggled a bit as she did, asking me "hmmm, looks like Ben had some fun in college, didn't he?" "Well, maybe a little," said. "I can see," Lulu said, maybe late night trips to the all-night donut shop, and the Wendy's drive-thru, and the all-night diner?" "How did you know?," I asked with a chuckle of my own.

She pinched a roll of belly fat and said, "I can tell my boy, I can tell!" Then she continued her measurement and frowned at me and said "stop sucking in that gut, I need an accurate measurement!" As I let it all hang out, she smiled and said "that's more like it."

As she kept taking more measurements and writing them down on a file card, she asked, "so Ben, how much fun did you have in college ... or rather how much weight did you pack on?" "That's awfully personal," I protested and she responded wittily that anything I told her was protected by tailor - customer privilege. "OK then, if it's privileged, I put on 70 pounds" (I lied, it was actually more like 90 over the five years).

"That's a very impressive appetite, young Ben," she said as squeezing one of my love handles. "And what did your girlfriend think of that?" "Well, she was a big girl too, actually bigger than me, about 350 pounds now." "Oh my Ben, you were a big couple!" "That we were Lulu!"

"And where is your girlfriend now?," she inquired. "She went back to Chicago where she got a job working for a friend of her dad's." "Well that is a big shame, Ben, being separated like that." "Yeah, it kind of sucks ..."

Before too long, Lulu had finished her measurements, or so I thought. "One more measurement, Ben" and she pointed me toward the corner of the workroom where I saw a rather sturdy scale. "Is this a standard measurement?," I asked, giving her a look that I didn't exactly trust her motives.

"It is for my clients, Ben, for you see I cater to many of the ... shall we say ... huskier men in Washington, men who can no longer find a fashionable suit or sportcoat or pair of slacks off the rack." "Hmmm," I said, then she continued, "so it's important to know what my clients weigh ... and what they are likely to weigh in the future, in order to better anticipate and serve their needs. You see Ben, it's all about customer service."

I shook my head and said, "OK I guess ... besides I haven't weighed myself in a while." Lulu looked ecstatic and said, 'well then Ben, climb on and let's see what you weigh."

I had a little bit of trouble seeing over the dome of my belly so Lulu announced it to me, in what seemed like a very giddy tone of voice ... "272.8 pounds -- very impressive young man!"

"272.8," I thought, "holy shit, that means I've gained 102 pounds since I left for college." I was officially fat ...

Lulu could tell I was embarrassed and sought to console me, telling me "don't worry, you're far from my biggest client, I have several attorneys and acountants and businessmen who are over 400 pounds and even three or four who top 500 pounds." Then she patted me on my still bare belly and said "it will probably take you at least two or three years to catch up ..."
 

rwagner

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Off to a great start as usual. I prefer your stories where the FFA gains some weight as well. Keep up the great work!!!
 
Last edited:

Fiji

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May 3, 2014
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An Unexpected Offer

"Whoa there," I said, "I may be fat, but I'll NEVER be that fat! 400 pounds, much less 500 pounds, tell me you're kidding Lulu ..."

"Calm down Ben, I just said it to see what reaction you'd have. And, from your rather visceral reaction, I can tell you've obviously never fantasized about growing enormously fat. Have you Ben?"

I looked back at her rather sheepishly and she continued, "I mean, in my line of work, catering to professional men who have eaten themselves out of off-the-rack clothing, I have learned things, they tell me things they would never share with their wives or girlfriends ... or boyfriends for that matter. Like that since the time they were kids ... fat little boys ... they have had fantasies about growing enormous. And how, now that they are grown men with a little bit of money, they are finally able to live out their fantasy ... particularly when their significant other is on the deal and encouraging them."

"But that's obviously not you Ben, is it? After you get a job, you probably plan to join a gym and lose some weight, aren't you Ben?"

By then I was blushing bright red and had a raging boner going on in my tighty whiteys, which fortunately was hidden from Lulu's view by my big belly.

"Don't worry Ben," Lulu said in a calming voice, "you can be as fat or as skinny as you want to be. That's the great thing about being 22 ..." I interrupted to say I was 23. "23 then," she continued, "you have your whole life in front of you and you can wait a while to make important decisions. It's time to live Ben!"

As I started to put my shirt back on, I smiled at this supersexy pixie of a woman and said, "thanks, I needed that ... I just wish my parents felt the same way. They are all over my *** to get a job and start being a productive member of society ... and it doesn't help either that my girlfriend in Chicago is pulling down $60k a year and is pestering me to move there and get married."

As Lulu handed me my suit pants, she got a knowing look on her face and said, "well young Ben, I have an idea that may help you on both fronts."

"Please, anything," I said.

"Well Ben, I have been thinking about adding a staff person here, an apprentice if you will. Someone whom I can teach the business and who hopefully will help me drum up a lot more business. And I'm thinking a handsome young man like you might be just the trick -- you're a big man and you look great in a suit -- I'm thinking I could make you our ambassador to all the fat men of Washington, showing them how good they could look in a custom made suit."

"Wow Lulu, that would be great!"

Then Lulu put the cherry on top, saying "and if you have a good paying job here, there is no reason for you to move to Chicago. In fact, with the wardrobe of beautiful suits I'll make you, you'll have women chasing your chubby little ass all over town!"

All I could say was "hmmm ..."

"Now that's a fantasy worth having, isn't it Ben?"

By then my boner was getting painful and I was fantasizing about something else --bending Lulu's tight little ass over her cutting table and taking her right there. Or me laying naked on the table and having her ride me while I squealed like a pig. My mind even wandered to what it would be like to be 500 pounds and be expertly manipulated by this tiny little minx.

"Isn't it Ben?," she repeated and my mind came back to reality. "Not a bad fantasy at all," I muttered.

"As I thought," Lulu said, "now let's talk details."

"Since I'm going to be making you free clothes, I thought I'd start you out at $30,000 a year, but then I'd give you a 20% commission on sales to each new customer you bring in. And, after a year, if things go well, I'll up your salary to $50,000. How does that sound?"

"That's great!" I said enthusiastically.

"Now, two other things," she said.

"First, where do you live?" "Mount Vernon," I said. "Outstanding," she said, "so you probably come up Route 1 right past the Krispy Kreme. By the look of things, I'd say you've made at least a visit or two there over the years, right Ben?"

I patted my belly and said, "you know me too well Lulu." She laughed and said "oh I think the counter girls there know you all too well!"

Then she continued, "with my clientele of ... shall we say "ample" gentlemen, I like to have a few dozen donuts on hand. So Ben, one of your duties will be to stop by Krispy Kreme every morning and buy four dozen. And, while you're at it, you should buy a dozen for yourself so you're not hungry when you get in here at 9 a.m." Then she walked over to her purse and pulled out a $100 bill and said "this should cover the first week or so, let me know if you need more."

"Consider it done," I said, "now what was the second thing?"

"The second thing is that I need to get you an American Express card. An important part of your job will be wining and dining prospective clients. As well as my existing ones. The key thing to remember is that gaining weight is good for my ... or shall I now say ... our business. I want you plying them with big meals ... and always with lots of alcohol and desserts, getting them nice and fat. Then, when they are too stuffed to fit in their old clothes, you just waddle them in here to me and I'll take good care of the fat piggies. AND if you do a good job, I'll take good care of you too Ben!"

"Sounds like tons of fun," I said, "when can I start?"

"Tomorrow at 9 sharp and don't forget to stop for the donuts."
 

Fiji

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May 3, 2014
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Anticipation

I chuckled and told Lulu "do I possibly look like I ever forgot to stop for donuts?" She grinned back at me and said "I suppose not Ben, you look like you're well acquainted with donuts," and gave my bulging belly a light tap.

"OK, I'm off then and I'll be here bright and early tomorrow," and I left the shop. I almost felt like skipping down the sidewalk, I was so happy to have a job and to finally get my dad off my back.

I pulled out my phone to check the time and was amazed that it was almost 2:30. I'd been with Lulu for almost three hours but it was so fun and effortless that it seemed like minutes. It went so amazingly that I hadn't even noticed I was hungry, but now that I was out on the street again my hunger pangs kicked into overdrive. But soon I was in front of the trusty Wall Street Deli and popped in for a mid-afternoon eatscapade (since now employed, I spared no expense on myself!).

Soon it was close to 5 and I called my dad to arrange a place to meet for the ride home and to give him the good news that I was off the unemployment rolls.

I met him around 5:20 in the lobby of his building and rode the elevator down to where he parked. He seemed subdued at the news of my new job and finally said, a bit grudgingly, "I'm proud of you son, it's not a great job, but it's a start I guess."

I kept my mouth shut, but was tempted to say "gee, thanks for your confidence dad." When we got home, mom was much more excited and set about baking a cake to celebrate.

Good old mom ... while dad always berated me about one thing or another, particularly the weight I'd gained, mom was always supportive. Perhaps it was because she was plus-sized too.

Dad was an ex-jock, a tall (6'3") former Virginia Tech wide receiver, class of '88, who still looked like he could play. Mom was a Hokie cheerleader, class of '90, who had kinda gone to seed. Seeing their pictures back in college, mom had never been super svelte, in fact she was probably one of the "sturdy" girls on the bottom of the pyramid, holding up the lighter girls. But she was really cute back then and I could see what dad saw in her.

But since graduation, getting married, and having me in 1991, the pounds had definitely found their way onto mom. She was 5'3" and I'm guessing she probably weighed as much or more than me. From our infrequent trips to the beach, seeing her in a conservative one-piece suit, I could tell she sported a massive hanging double belly which, unfortunately, I had inherited from her. But if she hadn't been my mom, I'd think her really sexy for a woman in her mid-forties, with a very shapely ass complementing her big hanging belly and two very respectable breasts sitting on top (in fact, one of my high school friends was always telling me he wanted to "tap" my mom's ass!). Needless to say, Dad certainly still seemed to be very turned on by her, so much so that I felt like he kind of resented me being back in the house after college, like it put a damper on their playtime ...

Unfortunately, I also inherited my lack of height from mom. I'd always hoped to be as tall as dad so that I could have played football or basketball in high school. But instead, I was only 5'9" which relegated me to the chess club, again much to dad's disappointment.

But enough about my folks! After dinner and after devouring about a third of the cake my mom baked, I went off to bed early. But I couldn't sleep as all I could think about was this hot chick Lulu! Although she probably wasn't much younger than my parents, I was totally turned on by her tiny little body and huge personality. And her name, "Lulu," what a great and oh so sexy name -- she was most definitely a Lulu!

The more I tried to put her out of my mind, the more she crept back in, and soon I began to imagine her feeding me to incredible dimensions, 500 or 600 pounds or more, then climbing my enormous jiggling mountain of flesh, struggling to find my dick buried underneath, then upon discovery, planting herself atop it, sinking into the excesses of my flesh, and riding me furiously until I exploded.

All the while, I imagined her whispering in my ear how fat I had become at her hands and playfully calling me names, like Blubbery Ben, Fat Boy, Tubs, and the like. Then she would tell me how much fatter she would make me. Then I imagined the target she would set for me, 700 pounds?, 800?, a thousand maybe? "Wow," I thought, "a thousand pound me?"

The more I thunk, the harder I got and soon my hand drifted downstairs. And things only got harder as I began thinking about how big a tape Lulu would need to measure around me at that point, maybe a ten foot tape to have enough to get around what would probably be at least a one hundred inch waist at that point?

Then I began throbbing as I thought of how much fabric it would take for Lulu to handcraft a suit for me at that point. I imagined her telling me it would take a whole bolt of fabric (maybe two?) just to suit me. "After all, you are now a VERY fat young man, SO much fatter than ANY of my very fat clients" she would say.

That was all it took to finish the job. But as I lay there afterwards, I told myself it was a completely unrealistic fantasy, but it was such a fun one I knew I would be playing it out time and time again. And, I thought, if I was lucky, some small version of it might play out in real life.

Then I finally drifted off to sleep, no doubt dreaming more about Lulu and what would happen on my first day of work.

The First Day

I usually slept in until 9 ... frankly more like 10 each morning. But that day I awoke at 6:30 with tons of energy, hopped in the shower, and went down to breakfast. Good old mom had fixed me a big hearty one, with lots of scrambled eggs, a pound of bacon to share with her and dad, buttered toast, hashbrowns, it was wonderful.

Then I climbed into my battered old Honda Civic to make my way up Route 1 to the Krispy Kreme. The double-K had been there probably since the 50's, but the original was torn down and rebuilt when I was a kid in the late 90's and was a huge monument to gluttony.

When I was a kid, my mom would stop there on the way home and buy a dozen, which we would consume together with nothing being left in the box by the time we arrived back home. No wonder I weighed close to 200 pounds by the time I was 12! Fortunately I'd sworn off donuts in my early teens and lost a decent amount of weight, but being in college and having a hungry girlfriend had reeled me back in and I owed a lot of my 272 pounds at the time to these sugary delights devoured on late night visits with my girl to the Dunkin' Donuts in Middlebury.

I climbed out of my Civic and strode proudly into the store, belly hanging over my belt like a true donut king, and ordered a wide assortment for the tailor shop, plus a dozen chocolate custard filleds for my drive to Eye Street. Plus a coffee to wash them down with.

I tore into the first one as soon as I got back to the car and finished half of my dozen by the time I hit the GW Parkway. They were all gone by the time I crossed the 14th Street Bridge and was into D.C. territorial limits. Between mom's big breakfast and probably 5,000 calories from the donuts, my belly was contentedly full by the time I bounded through the door of Lulu's shop.

It was ten of nine and Lulu's contenance seemed to brighten as I came through the door. "Glad to see you are a punctual lad," she said, then she stood up, walked over to me, wet her finger with her tongue, and cleaned some remnants of chocolate off my chin. I immediately got a hard on when she did that and then commented to me, "looks like someone has already polished off his dozen donuts."

"Can't resist the chocolate custard filleds," I said and she said "I don't blame you, they seem to be a favorite of my clients, hope you brought some more of them." "I did," I responded.

Lulu got an evil glint in her eye and said, "outstanding, you can have a few more as our first appointment isn't until 11. Come on in the back, sit down, and we can eat some donuts together."

"Who is the client?," I asked. She got another evil glint in her eye and said, "oh you'll find him very interesting, I know I do."

"How so?," I asked as I dug into one of the boxes and fished out a glazed cruller. "Well Ben, he is the biggest homebuilder in Montgomery
County (Maryland), not only in terms of number of units built, but number of pounds weighed." I laughed and asked the proverbial question, "how big is he?"

"He's SO big he would make at least twice of you."

"So like 550 pounds?," I asked.

"At least, his new wife called me to make the appointment and said he had gained so much weight he can't fit into any of the clothes I made for him just three months ago."

"Wow," I said.

"Wow indeed young Ben. And he has a great personal story. He was married for years to this skinny shrew of a woman, a former Miss Maryland, tall, beautiful, but just a wretched personality. But his next door neighbor was a divorcee, a little tiny lady like me, who happened to be the number one caterer in Bethesda for weddings and big social events. Anyhow, she started inviting him over leftovers when his wife was away ... and she was ALWAYS away if you know what I mean. And before long, he balloons from like 200 pounds to 400 pounds and the wife leaves him figuring he'll be shattered.

But as soon as the divorce became final, he married the next door neighbor the next day! That was about six months ago and, of course, he was up to 500 pounds by then. As good as she cooks and as much as he eats, I wouldn't be surprised if he walks in here and weighs 600 pounds now!"

"Does your scale go that high?," I asked. "Silly boy, in this business you have to prepare for any contingency, and yes, the scale goes all the way to a thousand pounds." "Oh boy," I mused and my thoughts went back to my fantasy from the night before of being fattened up to a half ton by my sexy boss.

As we talked, Lulu noticed that my suit pants, which fit perfectly when my dad gave me the suit last Christmas, were now quite tight and getting tighter with every donut I consumed. "Tell you what," she said, since we've got 90 minutes before he comes in, slip off those slacks and I'll let them out a couple of inches to give you some more room."

"OK," I said, "that would be great. "Should only take about fifteen minutes," Lulu said "and then you'll have some room for growth."

As she ripped out the seam and let out the waist, she said, "and oh, I think it's time to make that first suit for you, it will be kind of a signing bonus if you will, just look at the bolts of fabric in the front room and let me know which one you like. And I'll make it with plenty of extra room, maybe four inches in the seat and in the jacket, so we can let it out if the time ever comes and stretch out its life."

"That's so nice of you," I said, "and very smart, but I hope I don't gain so much weight that everything has to be let out four inches." "You never know," she said, "you NEVER know, so let's be prepared for ANY contingency."

Once my waistband was enlarged and the slacks steamed to hide the old stitchmarks, I put them back on went out front to check out the inventory of fabric with Lulu. She pointed out some of her favorites and I finally settled on a juanty glen plaid that she thought would look good on me. As I did so, she sized me up mentally and estimated the number of yards it would take, then announced, "I hope you know that with the amount of fabric required, this will be the equivalent of a $4,000 bonus." "Wow, that much?," I said as I felt another boner in my pants.

Then we went back in the back to await her massive client, Harry Havershot. By the time Harry waddled through the door a little before 11, I had consumed my second dozen donuts of the day and feeling sated enough to make it through to lunch without any hunger pangs.

Harry, of Harry's Custom Homes, was all he was advertised to be, then some. I figured he had to be 600 pounds and, unfortunately for him, he was about my height, so he looked almost completely round. But even more amazing was his wife, Delilah, of Delilah's Amazing Events, who had no events that day and accompanied her hubby to help him select his new expanded wardrobe.

Delilah was indeed tiny, maybe 5 feet even and no more than a hundred pounds.
She was more cute than pretty, yet 150% sexy. I imagined her as an old college gymnast, which I later found out she had been at the University of Maryland.

Lulu took one look at the noticeably more rotund Harry and asked Delilah "darling, what have you been feeding this man? He is even more colossal than ever!"

"It's not my fault Lu," pleaded Delilah, "the man can't stop eating, everything in sight goes into that belly and he just gets bigger and bigger."

"OK," said Lulu and smiled a knowing smile, "I'm sure you had nothing to do with it Di!"

Then Delilah's gaze shifted to me and she said "Lu, you didn't tell me you had a new boy." "He started just this morning, his name is Ben." Delilah walked over to shake my hand and said "so glad to meet you Big Ben, my you look to be about the size of Harry here when he started ... sampling my wares ..." Then Harry said, "watch out Ben, we all know how that turned out for me" and patted his massive hanging belly.

"OK kids," Lulu said, "it's time to get down to business. I'll take Harry into the back room to take some measurements and Ben, why don't you be a dear, and sit out front here and entertain Di?" "That would be delightful," said Di, then she asked "do you have any snacks?" "Yes we do," answered Lulu and I'll bring some out for you. "Goody," said Di, "Big Ben here looks like he's a Starvin' Marvin."

True to her word, Lulu came back in a second with two of the four remaining dozen donuts. As I sat down in an arm chair, Di pulled her chair up in front of mine and sat a dozen donuts in her lap. Then she started feeling the contours of my belly and complementing me on how big and soft it was, then came the first donut, a jelly filled. Then another, a chocolate frosted, then another and another and another. She kept telling me how handsome I was and how much more handsome I'd be with some more weight. She seemed surprised that I was only 272 pounds, saying that my belly looked like that of a 300 pounder!

I kind of wished that she would have me take off my pants, but she just kept feeding me donuts! That is until I heard Lulu call from the back room and ask if I could step in to help her with something.

I got up and dusted the crumbs off my shirt and slacks, then opened the door and was shocked to see Harry, all 600 pounds or whatever he weighed (612 I later found out) naked on the worktable (which was obviously sturdier than I thought).

"Quick, help me," Lulu whispered, and she was also naked (and spectacular). "He's too fat to roll off on his own and I can't budge him." "How did you get him up there in the first place?," I whispered back. She gave me a look of consternation and whispered "I'll explain that later, now just put your shoulder into him and together we might be able to roll him over." Harry just looked at us in a bemused state, whispering "I can't believe I'm too fat to roll off this thing."

So Lulu and I combined our efforts and we must have been making a terrible racket, as Di opened the door, stepped in, gave it all a good luck and broke into uncontrollable laughter at the predicament her husband was in.
 

Fiji

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Joined
May 3, 2014
Messages
210
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The Trouble With Harry

I couldn't believe it either that a man like Harry could get so fat he couldn't roll over. Suddenly my fantasy from the night before of Lulu making me progressively fatter and fatter didn't seem so alluring after all.

But seeing Lulu naked also made me think that her getting me just a little fatter might not be so bad. Maybe she could stop when I reached 350 or 400 pounds ...

My daydreaming was interrupted, however, by Lulu punching my arm and whispering excitedly that we needed to get Harry off that table and quick like.

So we stood side-by-side, planted our feed firmly and started pushing at Harry's side. But that didn't get us anywhere as our hands just sunk into the excess of his loose flesh. Our combined efforts were so ineffective that Harry started laughing uncontrollably, which sent quake-like tremors convulsing throughout his jowls, chins, moobs, and belly. It was the most incredible thing I'd ever seen and ever may see -- his body was like a perpetual motion machine, that once in motion might remain forever in motion!

Lulu was trying to hush Harry up and that only got him laughing louder and louder. Within 30 seconds, Delilah burst through the door to see what was going on, then stopped dead in her tracks upon seeing two of the three of the other people in the room buck naked! Then, to my surprise at least, she burst into uncontrollable laughter, which got Harry to laughing harder and his flesh to jiggling even more than before.

What happened next surprised me even more, as Delilah sauntered over to Lulu and gave her a big hug. "Thanks so much Lu," she said, "since he broke 500 pounds Harry has been in a perpetual state of erection and I just can't keep him satisfied. So I gave him permission to come on to you and, by the look of things, it worked!"

"It did hon," Harry said excitedly from his prone position. "So you had fun with Lulu my fat baby?" "Oh yes," I did" answered Harry.

Lulu still seemed in a state of shock so I fetched her blouse off the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders to provide some coverage. Then I snatched her tiny little panties and handed them to her, at which point she snapped back to a more normal state and started stuttering apologies to Delilah.

Delilah just smiled and came over to hug Lulu again and said in a soothing voice that it was all OK while Lulu stuttered "he was just so big and sexy, I couldn't resist the temptation ..."

Finally, Harry began to get a little frustrated at being stuck on his back like a turtle, and said in his most forceful mega-millionaire developer voice, "are you girls gonna keep hugging each other or are you gonna get me off this ***ing table?"

Delilah pulled away from Lulu and hushed Harry up, then looked at Lulu and me and said, "here, let me show you how to roll a 600 pound blimp onto his feet." She had me come around to the other side of the table and reach my arms over his mounded belly to pull from my side, while she and Lulu positioned themselves on his other side pushing while I pulled. After rocking him back and forth three or four times, we finally gained enough momentum to get Harry on his side. Then from there, Delilah grabbed his two tree-trunk sized legs and with Lulu's and my help pivoted Harry so that his legs hung off the table. From there Harry was able to do the rest himself, rocking himself too and fro until he slid off the table onto his feet, making a considerable thud!

Delilah giggled like a schoolgirl at her husband's antics, then looked over at me and said "wouldn't you like to be as fat as Harry some day?" "It's a great life kid," Harry muttered as he was trying to pull what must have been a 15-X t-shirt over his massive woman-like moobs.

I tried to be polite and just said "I'll have to think about that," to which Delilah replied "you've got great gaining potential Ben with those broad shoulders and long legs, and the way you were taking down those donuts, the pounds would really just pile on if you let them."

Finally back to normalcy, Lulu (now fully dressed again) wrapped her arm around Delilah's shoulder and said, "give the boy a break, he's only 23, and he needs time to make up his mind."

"Sorry Ben," Delilah said, "but if you set your mind to it, I'm sure you can be a champion fatty just like my Harry here." "She's right kid, think about it," Harry chimed in.

"I will sir, thanks."

And with that the 600 pound plus man and his hundred pound wife left for lunch at his club. I hoped for his sake the club had enough food!

That left me alone in the shop with Lulu and this time it was me with an evil glint in my eye when I asked, "who are you Lulu Jones?"

She looked a little sheepish and responded, "what can I say Ben, I have a thing for big men, and Harry is frankly the biggest man I've ever seen."

"But you've known him for years, right?"

"Yes, but he's never been 600 pounds before," she said, then continued, "I put him on the scale like I always do and he weighed 612 pounds ... 612 pounds for God's sake, how could I possibly resist when he came on to me?"

"I guess a woman wants what a woman wants," I said, trying to sound older and wiser than my years.

"Well, what this woman wants right now is lunch, so let's lock up and walk over to Old Ebbit's Grill, mama needs some crabcakes!"

"Are you coming?," she asked. "I'm buying and it may give you a head start on getting as fat as Harry," she chuckled.
 

Fiji

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Learning More About Lulu

Lulu put the Be Back Soon sign in the window and locked the door and we headed right on Eye Street then took a left on 15th. Old Ebbitt Grille is very close to the Treasury Building and the White House and attracts a lot of political types. It's also one of the oldest restaurants and bars in Washington although it's only been in its current location since the 80's.

We walked in the front door and all of the staff seemed to know Lulu by name and, although the place was packed, we were led right to a cozy booth in the Oyster Bar. I looked a little sheepishly at the booth and Lulu stifled a laugh at my expense, then went all in, asking "too many donuts this morning to fit in the booth?" I boldly shot my new boss the middle finger and slid myself in, though not without some difficulty.

"I'm sorry Ben," she said, "but I just couldn't resist, the ball was right there on the rim and I had to slam it down!" "Couldn't resist," I responded, "kinda like with Harry this morning." "Touche, young Ben, you have some game young man!," she responded with some obvious admiration.

"Now let's see if your appetite can match," see smiled and nudged my belly with her bare foot from underneath the table. Feeling emboldened, I said, "if I didn't know any better Lulu, I'd swear you have some evil plan to make me as fat as Harry."

"Nonsense," she said, "NOBODY can possibly get as fat as Harry, I mean the man is the fattest of any I've ever seen, and I have some VERY fat clients," puffing her cheeks out for emphasis.

"Good then," I said, "no evil plan." She got that devilish glint in her eyes that I had seen before and responded "I didn't exactly say that Ben ..."

My eyes no doubt opened very wide when she said that and I struggled to find a worthy comeback, finally settling on "well promise me I can stay under 500 pounds at least until I can find a wife who likes me fat."

"That's a deal then young Ben," then she nudged my belly again with her foot, but this time a little more forcefully and for a little longer. I wanted to take her right there on the tabletop with everyone in the Oyster Bar looking on! This little firecracker really knew how to turn me on ... if only she wasn't so old ... she's probably like 40 and that is ancient ...

Our server came over and Lulu said "let's start with two dozen Blue Point oysters, then we'll decide what else after that." Then she added with a wink of the eye, "oysters are good for your libido Ben." At that point, however, I thought my libido was doing just fine without them!

In fact, I was afraid I'd have blue balls before the Blue Points arrived! So desperately I tried to change the subject, telling Lulu that I'd told her a lot about me and wanted to find out more about her. "Fine then," she said, "what would you like to know?"

"Well then, how did you get into men's tailoring?"

"My dad founded the shop in 1960, you see he was a big man, around 400 pounds, and had trouble finding clothes, so he decided to create a business catering to men like him."

"So you obviously didn't get his genes, being so tiny and all?"

"I inherited his business genes but I'm just like my mother otherwise. She was even shorter than me, 5'1", and she adored my dad, calling him her "sweet butterball."

"Judging from your performance with Harry just now, I take it you inherited that from her too?"

"Yes I did, Mr. Smartass, but you really shouldn't say things like that on your first day on the job!"

"I'm sorry," I said. "No you're not," she responded, "and just for that you'll be lucky if I don't feed you up to 600 pounds before you find a wife!"

Feeling really emboldened now, I responded "and I might just let you." That evil glint came again and she said "not that you'd have any say in it Fat Boy." I nearly came in my pants right there!

I took a long drink of water, then for comedic effect, dipped my fingers into the glass and sprinkled some on my face. "Down boy," she said, "any other questions?"

"Ever married?"

"Nope, next?"

"Looking?"

"Always! Next?"

"Where did you go to school?"

"UVA."

"Really? My folks are Tech grads."

"Sorry your parents are such country hicks (with a smile). Next?

"Major?"

"Government. Next?"

"When did you graduate?"

"Oh a clever fat boy, trying to ask how old I am without really asking ... well, I'm 42."

Finally I had no more questions and she asked "does that shock you?"

"No, not at all," I stammered, finally realizing she might be my Mrs. Robinson (a fantasy of mine after having seen The Graduate for the first time a couple of years prior).

"Am I close to your Mom's age?"

"Oh no, she's much older." Whereas in fact she was only five years younger!"

Just as I answered that last question our server thankfully delivered the two dozen oysters and I dug in so I wouldn't have to talk any more and could collect my thoughts. But before he left I asked the waiter to bring me a Southern Comfort neat, then I told him to make it a double!

"Running a little hot, are we Ben?"

 

Fiji

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Not Yet

After the oysters, we ordered our main courses. Of course, Lulu ordered a salad, while I ordered the jumbo lump crabcake, the double serving of course, one of the house specialties at Old Ebbitt, which came with mashed potatoes. Though extremely full after that, Lulu insisted that a "growing boy" like me needed dessert and she ordered me the pecan pie with vanilla ice cream a la mode.

I was a very full fat boy after that and she was picking up the check when a vaguely familiar-looking fat man came up to our table. When she called him Tom, I immediately figured out who he was -- Tom Bladgett, the freshman Republican senator from North Carolina.

He was best known around town as the senator who had gone from being garden variety fat to ***ing enormous in his first four years in office. Washington life and the endless lobbyist lunches and after hours receptions were obviously agreeing with him!

Washingtonian Magazine had even referred to him once as "the Senator from Krispy Kreme," since the company was headquartered in his hometown of Winston-Salem and sent a couple of dozen of their original glazed donuts to his office every day to serve to visiting constituents (although the magazine theorized they were going somewhere else!).

The guy looked like he weighed every ounce of 400 pounds and Lulu looked like she was an old friend of his. As he came over, she stood up and wrapped her arms around him, barely making it halfway around him it appeared. And he kissed her on the cheek and gave her a massive bear hug, both of them lingering for just a little more time than you'd expect for mere acquaintances.

I was actually getting a little jealous because he had me by over a hundred pounds easily and Lulu really seemed to be into him, loudly telling him "looks like someone has been cheating on the strict diet his wife has him on!" "Busted," said the Senator. Lulu flashed a 50,000 watt smile, winked her eye, and said "I won't tell Louise (the Senator's tall thin Junior League-looking wife) if you don't Tom!" "Mums the word then," the Senator responded, and bid Lulu and I adieu, but not before telling me, "watch out with this woman kid," and clapped me on the shoulder.

Once out on the street, I discreetly asked Lulu "are you and he ... you know?" "Yes," she responded confidently, "the Senator is a valued client of mine, in fact I've made him six new sets of clothes since he came to the Senate four years ago ... poor guy, he just can't keep the weight off and it's driving his wife crazy ... he must have put on 150 pounds."

"What do you mean by 'must have,' don't you put all your clients on the scale?"

Lulu grinned and said, "well I guess you're right Ben, such a clever fat boy you are. The last time he came in he weighed 408 pounds as I recall. And, by the look of things, I think he may be coming in again soon ... he obviously hasn't missed too many meals since his last fitting ... just like you Ben!"

As we came up on the shop, Lulu leaned into my belly as she fished her keys out of her purse and commented on how soft it was. Then, once in the door, she spied that there were still a dozen donuts left from the morning, and said "better polish those off Ben, before they go stale -- only client with an appointment this afternoon is a fitness freak and he won't touch junk like that, doesn't want to get to fat you know. Like you Ben ..."

That client, a 40ish hedge fund manager, arrived around 3 and was anything but fat. Looked to be about 6'5" and I imagined him to be chiseled under his skinny cut suit. I guess Lulu didn't find him that attractive as he was pretty much in and out, a quick fitting, a selection of a couple of fabric swatches, and he was gone by 3:45.

As hedge fund guy left, Lulu came over to inspect the last box of donuts, peeked in and saw that I had polished them all off. "Very good Ben, you follow instructions so well, such a good little fat boy." Then she came over and reached her hands inside my suit jacket and started feeling the contours of my belly, commenting "my Ben, you have eaten so much today, at least five dozen donuts, a big lunch entree, pie for dessert, what's next my piggy?"

But she was soon interrupted by the FedEx man, who walked through the door and delivered a box, the receipt of which seemed to greatly excite my sexy boss.

After the deliveryman left, she said "goody, I've been waiting for this and the timing is perfect, given that this is your first day on the job!"

"What's in it?" I asked. "You'll see in a minute" she said and tore into the packing tape with a letter opener, ripping it apart in seconds flat. Then she dug in and pulled out ... a pair of thong underwear, although it was the biggest thong I'd ever seen (and I'd seen the ones my 350 pound girlfriend used to wear!). In fact, it could have been the biggest thong ever made!

My mouth agape, I asked "what is that?"

"This my boy is my latest scheme to increase profits," Lulu said proudly. "You see, I did my market research and discovered a niche that is not being filled in Washington ... sexy mens undergarments in plus sizes!"

My response was "huh?"

So she went on, "you know that sexy lingerie shop in McLean that advertises in the Washingtonian? Well, they only carry sexy mens undergarments up to an XL so I figured the 2X and up market has to be underserved. All the wealthy wives with fat husbands ... the wives of fat lawyers, and doctors, and accountants, government contractors and politicians and diplomats, I figure they'll buy this stuff in droves. You know, if they keep their fat hubbies happy, they'll keep buying their wives goodies from Niemann Marcus and Tiffany's and all those other places wealthy wives like."

I was still unconvinced and Lulu said, "here let me show you," and she dug into the box to find a 2X. "You're probably not too fat for this yet, so go try it on." "Are you kidding?," I asked. "No, I am your boss, and I told you try this on. Now put it on and model it for me!"

Since it was my first day on the job, I figured I probably should do what she said and went in the back and took off my clothes and slipped on the 2X. Fortunately it wasn't a thong like the one she pulled out of the box first, but it was still pretty skimpy, more like a Speedo and, after all my eating that day, it fit with little room to spare.

I timidly stepped out of the fitting room to find Lulu nodding her head in approval. "Perfect," she said, "you look great Ben and this has given me another brilliant idea!"

"What's that?," I groaned, knowing whatever it was it couldn't possibly be good for me.

She excitedly explained, "we Ben, or rather you, are going to put on a fashion show for the wives of some of my select clients, meaning the really fat ones! You my boy will be my only model, but you will need to put on a few more pounds first. I'd like to get you into the 3X models at least, which I'm guessing will mean you need to eat your way up to 300 pounds or so."

"Oh come on," I whined, and she told me to hush. "It will be fun Ben, having all these women in their thirties through their sixties ooing and awing over your big sexy fat body ... I'll even encourage them to stuff dollar bills in your underwear so you can take home a few extra bucks. Now that would be good wouldn't it?"

"But I don't wanna ..."

"It's your job young man and you will wanna ... or else." Then she started inspecting how that pair fit me, putting her fingers into the waistband in back and then in front to check out how much room there was ... or rather wasn't.

And when checking out the front, she took a peak under the hood and commented "nice equipment down there Ben!" "Sorry about that," I said, and she responded "don't worry, a lot of my clients have the same reaction, only you have a lot more down there than many of them ... and you're a lot younger."

That comment didn't help the situation any, nor did her next command, to slip off the pair I had on and try on the 2X model of the thong!

"OK," I said with dread, "I'll step in the changing room and will be back in a second." "Nonsense," she said, "do it right here, it's not like I haven't seen a man's junk before. After all, I saw a LOT of Harry's junk this morning!"

"Oh lord," I said, and complied with her dictate. As I slipped off the first pair, Lulu told me to lift up my belly so she could get a better view of my "junk," and heeped more praise on my anatomy. Once I slipped on the thong, she came up behind me and grasped my cheeks with both hands, commenting "my Ben, you have a pretty compact ass for a boy with such a big belly," then she kneeled down to rub her hands up and down my thighs and calves, commenting again "and your legs are so tightly muscled, must be from carrying around all that weight ... you know my boy with a frame like this you can probably carry 500 or even 600 pounds without losing any mobility at all."

At that comment, I took a quick step forward to escape her grasp and spun around quickly, causing my hanging belly to ripple and shake like crazy. "Calm down Ben," Lulu said in a soothing voice, "I was just kidding you, can't you take a little joke?"

Then, still kneeling, she moved forward and started feeling my belly, then shaking it gently up and down with both hands. Still in a soothing tone of voice, she cooed "such a lovely belly, so big, so soft ... and SO much potential."

Then her hands moved southward and pulled the thong down to my knees, then they moved a little northward again, gently stroking my testicles and sending my hormones into overdrive.

But she stopped almost as soon as she started, looking at her watch and telling me, "it's almost time to lock up Ben."

I looked at her incredulously and said "aren't we going to finish this?" She just looked at me and said "not yet, you have more work to do for me Ben."
 

Fiji

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More Work To Do Still

As the days, then weeks, went by I began to learn the trade of haberdashery and, if I say so myself, I was really taking to it. I had always thought myself to have a good sense of fashion, for a straight guy at least, and this was confirmed to me by Lulu who commended me on my fabric selections, and matching of ties, socks, and shoes for her pickiest clients, thin and fat and in between.

The sexual innuendo, hands on inspections, and now fully naked weigh-ins continued but it was more and more about business and Lulu was a great teacher. Every so often, usually when the mistress of the establishment was getting more handsy than usual, I'd suggest that maybe it was time to take things to the next level, but Lulu would give me a scolding look and remind me "you still have much work to do Fat Boy." She never did explain what she meant, but the unspoken expectation certainly seemed to be that her fat apprentice needed to pack on more pounds.

By my three-month anniversary I thought maybe I had finally done enough "work" to satisfy Lulu. The daily donuts, big lunches, and other goodies that Lulu had delivered (cakes, pies, cookies, you name it) were having the desired effect on my waistline and, on anniversary day, she got me on the scale for my periodic weigh-in and seemed quite pleased that I had crossed the 300 pound mark, 304.6 to be exact. Lulu commended me on my progress and, to emphasize the full extent of my growth, grabbed a hold of my lower belly roll, gave it a good shake, and remarked "hanging SO much lower now than when we first met." Then she half mumbled, just loud enough for me to hear, " .... such an obedient Fat Boy ..."

Then her hands strayed lower, reaching underneath my growing overhang to locate and carress my very blue balls. Then she gave them a tight squeeze, causing me to jump then pull back slightly. "Too rough with my fat boy?," she asked.

"No, not at all, please continue."

"OK, lift up your belly Tubby," and I did as commanded. Then she said "now drop it so I can see how much all that blubber shakes." Again I did as commanded, then without being asked again, did it a few more times.

Lulu cooed "my what an impressive gain you have made!" "But is it enough?," I asked.

"Enough for what?"

"You know, is it enough 'work' on my part?"

I thought I had the response I was hoping for, as Lulu pulled off her blouse to reveal a sexy black push-up bra, then slipped off her short skirt to fully reveal her spectacular legs and an oh so revealing black thong. Then she wrapped her arms around my belly, grasping my love handles, and began nibbling my fresly rounded moobs, biting my nipples hard enough to hurt but not enough to leave a mark.

But then I blew it, telling Lulu "I've been waiting so long for this," causing her to interrupt her sexy groping and nibbling and whisper in my ear, "of course not, silly boy, this is just a preview of things to come ... you know, after your 'work' is complete."

Then she grabbed her blouse and skirt and retreated quickly into the changing room, leaving me fat, naked, and painfully erect ... you know, the usual for me!

Lulu quickly emerged from the changing room, spied me still naked, and asked, "why are you still undressed? We have work to do my boy!"

"Do we have to?," I moaned. And her response was "yes, we do, now that you have crossed over the 300 pound barrier, we have a fashion show to plan for you. In fact, I'm planning to call it a 'fatshion show,' get it? FAT-shion?"

"Oh yeah, I get it ..."
 

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The Fatshion Show

After I got my clothes back on, the suit that Lulu had measured me for the day we met (which, after my thirty pound gain, now needed to have the pants and jacket let out a couple of inches!), I walked to her ornate mahogany desk in the front of the shop.

Lulu was seductively leaned back in her ergonomic desk chair, with one sexy leg crossed against the other, while her blouse was strategically unbuttoned a bit lower than it had been earlier that day, showcasing some impressive cleavage for such a tiny little lady. Just enough to make my member go "sproing" again ...

"Come on over Big Boy and take a load off," she said seductively. I sat in a plush arm chair on the other side of the desk and my 300+ pounds sunk very comfortably in. "I'm so pleased with your progress Ben and believe it is now time to schedule the Fatshion Show."

"So what's your brilliant plan boss?," I asked.

"Well, my brilliant plan is to have you model the 3X underwear ... or maybe even the 4X models if you've gotten fat enough. You will be the perfect model and I plan to invite the perfect audience who will appreciate your body and my new products."

"Why do I feel like a piece of meat?," I asked (with a smile).

"Because you are Ben, a perfectly marbled piece of meat with just the right amount of fat!," Lulu replied (with a smile).

"So who will I be performing in front of?"

"I want to keep it intimate, with no more than ten to fifteen select guests, the wives and mistresses of my fattest clients, including a few male partners."

"That's very progressive of you," I said, "considering you're a Republican and all."

"Well, my boy, you'll soon find out that as a good Republican I don't see straight or gay or black or white -- I only see green!" I laughed at that one, knowing that she was dead serious (and besides I agreed with her, being a libertarian myself). Then she cracked me up again, saying "and just so you know, most of my gay clients are Log Cabin Republicans!"

"So when do we do this?," I asked.

"I was thinking two weeks from Friday and I'm sending the email invitations this afternoon. I just need you to do one thing first."

"What's that?," I asked with a sense of dread.

Lulu opened her top desk drawer and pulled out a 3X model that looked like a fancy jock strap, only with a LOT less fabric, pretty much just a pouch for my junk!

"Be a dear and go in the back and again and slip this on so I can take a picture to send with the invitation." "Please don't," I pleaded, "what if the picture hits the internet and my parents see it? How will I ever explain that?"

"Nonsense my boy, we have a very discreet clientele! Now go put these on and call me back when you're ready."

I reluctantly did as told, changing in front of a full-length mirror and surprisingly kind of liking the look. I looked pretty damn sexy I thought and lingered for a minute admiring myself in the mirror. So long in fact that Lulu eventually stepped in to see what was taking me so long.

"Liking what you see, huh Fat Boy?"

"Ya know Lulu, I kinda do."

"So do I," she purred, "you're a very sexy Fat Boy with all those added pounds."

"Is it ..." I stammered but before I could finish my question, she firmly said "no!" And she took her iPhone out and started to snap some candids of me. But after about a half dozen shots, she decided she couldn't see enough of my "pouch" for all of my belly hang. "Lift up that belly Fat Boy so I can see the merchandise!"

I was turned on enough that I really began hamming it up for her and she got so many tremendous shots it was hard picking just one to include with the email invitations!

The one we selected must have worked because out of fifteen invitations sent, we had positive responses from twelve people in less than two hours. Eight chubby chasing women and four chubby chasing Log Cabin Republicans ... I still had some trepidations about it, but it was kind of exciting that so many people wanted to come see my big fat body modeling some sexy underwear. Lulu was excited too and seeing a lot of green in her future!

The two weeks whirled by and the pounds piled on too, with Lulu ensuring lots of empty calories were available for me each day in the shop. By the morning before the show she had me strip and mount the scale to find that I had packed on ten more pounds, up to 314.8. And when I tried on a couple of pairs, Lulu found that I was between a 3X and 4X, but chose to have me wear the 3X's that night since they were tighter on me and showed off more of my man curves.

The Fatshion Show was scheduled for 7 p.m. in the front of the shop and Lulu closed the plantation shutters that covered the windows so that no one outside could see me parading around near-naked. The crowd seemed pretty enthusiastic about the event, with people beginning to show up around 6:30, early enough that they could see me in a new suit that Lulu had crafted for me, 56 inches in the shoulders and 52 inches in the waist.

And did I mention that Lulu had arranged food galore to be brought in for the event. Soon women, and even a couple of guys, were stuffing hors d'oeuvres, mini-crispy crabcakes, coconut-crusted chicken skewers, and those delicious mini-chocolate eclairs in my mouth and patting my belly as they did, fussing over me like I was some kind of celebrity.

And as we got closer to 7, I noticed that there were a lot more than the twelve who had originally RSVP'ed. Apparently the invitation with my glamour shot had been sent from friend-to-friend and about forty people actually showed up! Lulu whispered excitedly in my ear, "you're a hit kid!"

Soon she pulled me into the back while the crowd settled into any free space left in the front room. One of the more boisterous ladies started a chant, "we want the Fat Boy, we want the Fat Boy," and was soon joined by most of the room. It gave me quite the laugh as I changed into the first skimpy pair of underwear for my Fatshion Show debut.

Lulu soon provided me my cue to come out, announcing me as her "fat young associate, Ben, all 314 pounds of him," eliciting oohs and ahhs from the audience.

I strode confidently out, swaying my hips like a female model and lifting my belly and shaking my tits for the ladies and men. As I walked by, many of the women and men stuffed bills in my underwear beneath my hanging belly and more than a few copped feels of my belly and boobs and love handles. Soon I finished my lap around the room and retreated to the back to cheers from the crowd. As I changed, I took a quick mental count of the bills that had been pushed into my pants and there must have been $200 there!

I repeated the routine eight more times and, by the last trip around the room, had collected about $2,000, quite a haul for a guy who had been jobless with no prospects not too many weeks prior.

As I changed back into my new suit, Lulu was taking orders like crazy, most in the 4X to 10X range (these folks had some extra large husbands and lovers!). And with her 125% markup over cost, she made about $10,000 in profit!

But there was one more revenue-producing proposition to come that night ...

As I walked out in my snappy suit, I was stopped by one of the men in the audience, one who had been well behaved throughout, never pushing cash into my pants or trying to cop a feel. He introduced himself as Randy Burton and handed me his card which indicated that he was Managing Director of a hedge fund with offices in Washington and New York.

Soon I was waving Lulu over to join the conversation, as Randy had quite the proposition for us. He explained "my partner is a large man, about 400 pounds, and lives in Manhattan ... and he is a certified clothes horse, only he can't find a good tailor there. Lots of tailors on the island but no one of any consequence who caters to big guys."

"Well Randy, we'd love to help you and him fill that void," Lulu said in a very flirty way. "Just what I was thinking," Randy responded, then continued.

"My partner and I are having a big party in Manhattan next month and I believe that young Ben here, with his looks and style and stage craft, could make a huge impression with our larger friends, and there are many of them with lots of disposable income."

"Tell us where and when," Lulu said, but Randy quickly set her straight that I was the one he was interested in having attend the party.

"And Ben," he continued, "it would be good if you packed on some more pounds before then. Lulu mentioned you now weigh 314, so I'm thinking maybe you should try to add at least fifty pounds before the party, more if possible. You'll be a lot more convincing salesman the closer you get to 400 pounds."

Looking at the leftovers, Lulu grinned and excitedly said "good, we can get him started toward 400 tonight! We can take him in the back Randy and maybe you can help me feed him all the leftovers ..."

Then Randy added, "and Lulu, you should definitely whip him a couple of more new suits that will fit him at that weight. Our boy here needs to look as dapper as possible ..."

 

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Another Surprise Proposition

I thanked Randy for his surprise offer to help me establish a beachhead for the shop in New York, and told him that I was definitely down with the plan, but politely declined his and Lulu's offer to stuff the rest of the leftovers into my belly. I was already full from having women and men stuffing tidbits of food in my mouth during the show and I was extremely tired too and needed to get home for some rest.

Lulu looked chagrined at me, but Randy, who seemed quite the gentleman, said "I understand completely, go get some rest and we can talk in a few days about how best to execute our plan."

There were still about ten other people left in the shop, including a statutesque blond, my height or taller, who seemed a bit younger than the rest, perhaps in hear early 30's. And she seemed to be eyeing me the whole time I spoke with Randy.

Before leaving, I made a lap around the room, introducing myself to the remaining characters and accepting their compliments on my performance. When I got to the statuesque beauty, I could definitely feel a little electricity as I shook her hand. She introduced herself as Louise, which sounded vaguely familiar for some reason.

She was the last one I introduced myself to and I said "pardon me, but I really must leave as I'm totally exhausted from the evening's events." She grinned and said, "well Ben, you did put on quite the show tonight."

Then, as I started to leave, she said "wait up and I'll walk out with you." As we strolled down Eye Street, I mentioned that she seemed very familiar for some reason, and Louise responded that it was probably because her husband, "the junior Senator from North Carolina," was a client.

"Of course," I said, "I met him about four months ago, literally on my first day of work here, then again shortly thereafter when he came in to get re-fitted by Lulu."

"Oh yes," she said, "a familiar pattern for my husband, constantly getting re-fitted for new suits because he just can't stop eating."

I gave her a knowing look and said, "yeah, I heard you had him on a strict diet but that it wasn't exactly working ..."

"Hah!," she said, "that's just what he tells people like Lulu. I've always let him eat whatever he wants, but it's just that lately -- since his election and coming to Washington -- he just can't put down the fork. He's put on close to 200 pounds in less than four years and I don't see any end in sight!"

"If it's not too nosy of me, what does he weigh now?"

"The last time he let me look when he weighed himself, he was 452 pounds!" "Wow," I said. "Wow indeed," responded Louise with a look of frustration on her face.

"So, needless to say, you don't want him that big?"

"I didn't say that Ben ... I love fat guys and I love him, but it just seems like eating has replaced nearly everything else in his life, including sex!"

"Wow, with a beautiful wife like you ..."

"Exactly! Now you see my frustration Ben, don't you?"

"I do," I said, sensing that I might be able to help relieve some of that frustration!

"Ben, can I be honest with you?" "Of course," I responded and put my hand around her shoulder to emphasize my seriousness of intention.

"OK then Ben, here I am being honest ... I'm ... I'm ... a seriously under***ed woman! And I want it to end tonight. With you Ben ..."

"But what about the Senator?," I asked. "Oh, he's back in Winston-Salem for a couple of days, meeting with some folks from the tobacco industry about subsidies or some such shit."

"And your kids?," I asked for good measure.

"They're in their last week of summer camp, so the house is empty and I'm so lonely ... and so horny ... please Ben, come home with me." Then she leaned in and gave me the most sensual kiss I'd ever had, at least with a skinny girl, and her hand gradually slid down my soft belly to between my legs where she quickly found something a bit harder to the touch.

Soon she had me pressed up against a plate glass window of a boutique that had closed for the evening and we were in full on make-out mode like a couple of horny teenagers. We were so into each other everything else seems to have been shut out, that is until Randy strolled by on the way to his car. My eyes caught his momentarily and he gave me a wink as if to say "way to go!," then continued on his way.

I suggested to Louise that maybe it was time to get off the street and she grabbed me by the hand and led me to the parking deck and her big Benz sedan. The deck was pretty much deserted, like the scene from All the President's Men, where Deep Throat met with Bob Woodward, and once in her car, off came her blouse, revealing a small but magnificent pair of breasts, one of which promptly went in my mouth.

"I wish I had something else to feed you Ben," she cooed, "but that will have to wait until we get home and I dig into the Senator's endless stash of snacks."

"I like what you're serving me now just fine," I responded in a learing tone of voice. "In fact, those are quite delicious," I said, as I stretched my tongue out and twirled it around her very erect nipples.

My custom dress shirt now ripped open to my waist, Louise moaned "you're pretty delicious yourself Ben ... this big belly of yours is just so yummy and these round girly breasts ... I swear they're bigger than mine!"

Then I felt her reach down for the seat controls and she slid the seat all the way back and lowered the back all the way too. Next I felt her hands fumbling with my belt buckle and the clasp of my trousers. Then she kneeled onto the floorboard and I felt my slacks being lowered down to my ankles (of course after she asked me to raise my butt up enough to slide them off). It was about then that I thought back to the last time I had gone all the way with a woman ... it was six months or more ago on the night after graduation with my 350 pound girlfriend before she headed back to Chicago with her parents ...

Soon Louise was playing with my exposed belly rolls then she lifted up my bottom roll to reveal what she was looking for. First came a sensual massage of my testicles, even better than what I had briefly experienced at Lulu's expert hands on more than a few occasions now! Then her mouth wrapped around said testicles for an even more divine experience. Then she toyed with me a little, asking "time to finish you off Fat Boy or shall we wait to get back to my place?"

"Now please," I moaned.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you Fatty ..."

"NOW! PLEASE! Oh God, NOW please!," I shouted.

"No need to shout Tubby," she scolded me, then wrapped her lips around my painfully erect cock and quickly brought me to climax. I thought my fat girlfriend was good at fellatio, but this skinny Senatorial wife was by far better! So much so I couldn't believe that her enormously fat husband wasn't begging her for this every night ...

In a few minutes, Louise's blouse rebuttoned as well as my shirt and my slacks pulled back up, we started on our way to her swank Georgetown townhouse. On the way, I asked how she and the Senator had met.

"Oh, I went back to Winston-Salem after graduating from Sweet Briar (a posh girl's college outside Lynchburg, Virginia) and was working in the Junior League thrift shop (Lulu had been right about her being a Junior Leaguer) and he came in the shop one day to look around. He was a 28 year-old city councilman looking to move up the political pecking order and was seeing if we had any old tuxedos in his size. We didn't but I showed him around and before long we were an item around town."

"Was he a big guy back then?," I asked.

"Just ever so slightly pudgy, maybe 210 pounds, not as much as I liked on a man back then ... you see, I dated a 300 pounder from Washington & Lee when I was at Sweet Briar ... always did have a thing for young fatties," as she reached over and squeezed a roll of my blubber.

"We got married within a year, two years later, he was elected to Congress, and four years after that to the Senate."

"So," I said, "you're really young, maybe 32?"

"33," she said. "And you Big Boy?"

"Just turned 24 last month."

"Ooohhhh, you are a young fatty! All the better to take advantage of."

"That's what I was hoping for," I said exuberently.

With little nighttime traffic we were soon in Georgetown and Louise discreetly let me out two blocks from her townhouse, gave me the street number, and told me to come around to the back door.

After an appropriate wait while she parked her car and got settled, I snuck up behind the house, constantly looking over my shoulder to make sure no nosy neighbors or lurking press photographers spotted me. Soon I was at her door, anticipating whatever she had in mind for me. I knocked a couple of times but no Louise. Finally after a couple of fretful minutes, she came striding to the door with a long trenchcoat on.

Then, once I was inside the door the trenchcoat came off, revealing a spectacularly naked 33-year old beauty! Even without heels, she was a long cool drink of water, close to six feet with incredibly long and shapely legs, sexy wide hips and ever so slightly ample buttocks, a flat tummy, muscular arms as if she lifted weights (other than her husbands) all the time, and those delicious and shapely little breasts of hers. She was simply a vision of what womanhood should be and she wanted to get it on with big fat me!

She had my clothes off me before I hit the back maid's stairs, then it was up the narrow passage to her frilly bedroom and what still ranks as one of the best nights of my life ever ...

 

Fiji

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My Night With Louise

Long tall Louise was definitely more than a handful, taking complete control of the situation as we stumbled into her bedroom arms wrapped around each other and connected at the lips.

She was definitely the aggressor, using her rippling biceps and and long strong legs to push the younger weaker fat boy around! I was kind of amused that she was able to lift my hanging belly with one strong arm, while using her free hand to explore underneath, commenting on how comparatively easy it was to find my member underneath all the blubber than it was with her husband who had me beat by close to a hundred pounds!

As she explored downstairs and I got more and more excited, she asked "just how old are anyway, Ben?" I proudly said "23," and she gasped and responded, "my God you're so young, I feel like a cradle robber ... of course, it would take a big cradle to hold you," she added with a laugh.

"That it would," I murmured back to her.

"Yes indeed," she said, "you are one well fed boy. Speaking of that, where are my manners? I think I promised to feed you something from the Senator's stock of junk food ..."

"That's OK," I moaned, "I seem to be a little preoccupied right now ..."

"And so you are," she giggled, and intensified her exploration downstairs. I moaned again and she asked "does the fat boy like that?"

"Very much," the fat boy responded.

"What else would the fat boy like?"

"Well," I started, "I've always wanted to be ravaged by a hot MILF ..."

"That's so sweet of you Ben, calling me a 'MILF' -- I don't always feel appreciated by the Senator, he rarely wants to *** me, all he wants to do is eat now ... but you Ben, I feel like a young boy like you would truly appreciate me, wouldn't you Ben?"

"I could so appreciate you right now," I moaned.

"And you shall have your wish," she said as she disengaged both hands from my body, took a step back, and gave me a powerful shove onto the bed, demonstrating the full power of her toned and hot body.

As I hit the bed, my belly must have started wobbling like crazy as Louise squealed with obscene laughter and made fun of my size by puffing up her cheeks and holding her arms out to her sides and making a lumbering gait with her legs to simulate a huge fat blob waddling around. "My God you're awfully fat for such a young man ... I simply have to get you on the scale ... that is, after I ravage you!"

By then I'd sat up on the bed, legs outstretched in front of me and arms out to my sides hands touching the mattress. She immediately plopped herself down on my thighs and without much difficulty shoved me back into a fully reclining position as she asked "ready for the ride of your life Fatty?"

"I've been ready," I said with a lot of lust in my voice. "Good," she said, "as I told you Fat Boy, I've been seriously under***ed lately. I have to take it out in the gym every day when the kids are at school so this MILF has a lot of pent up energy ... and she is going to take it out on you Tubby!"

Lovely Louise reached down with her powerful hands and slung my belly forcefully to the east and then to the west, getting a good laugh at how soft and malleable it was, then pushed it north until it collided with my moobs, finally revealing the prize that previously lay hidden to the south.

She obviously had done a lot of pelvic exercises while her husband, the honorable gentleman from North Carolina, was eating himself fatter and fatter, as she slowly and surely screwed herself down onto my penis, then locked her vagina tight around it, as she began to ride me hard. It was the most incredible sexual experience I had ever had or ever could have imagined, even including the ones I'd mentally pictured myself engaged in with Lulu, that magnificent mature spinner of a woman!

As Louise rode me, she would loosen her grip, then tighten it again, adding immensely to my pleasure and I loved it that she was a trash talker throughout, berating me for being such a weak ***, for having no willpower around food, and telling me that soon I'd be fatter than her husband "and he's a total ***ing blimp!"

"How fat do ya think I'm gonna get?," I screamed.

"Too fat to *** anymore," she screamed back, grasping my big bottom roll tightly with both hands and wobbling it up and down to emphasize her point.

That mental image put me over the top and I tried to pull her down for a little post-coitus snuggling. But she wanted nothing of it, planting her strong hands tightly on my moobs to keep me from pulling her down. Then she unscrewed herself from my dick and pulled away momentarily before announcing, "I'm not finished with you Fat Boy!"

In an instant, her legs were wrapped around my face and I was buried in wet pussy! "You're obviously a good eater, so dine on this for a while Fat Boy!," she commanded. As I inserted tongue and went to work, she leaned her torso backwards a bit and wrapped her hands around my head to ensure that I couldn't pull away.

"That's it Fatty, I KNEW you would know how to use your tongue on a woman!"

I tried to mumble that I couldn't breathe, but she probably couldn't hear me over all her moans and screams and shrieks. I knew I had to bring her to orgasm fast or I was going to pass out from lack of oxygen!

Finally, just as things were beginning to go black, Louise shuddered noticeably and let out a particularly loud shriek, and I instinctively used my last bit of strength to push her away so I could take a deep gasp of breath!

Unfortunately, I pushed her with so much force that she went tumbling backwards and rolled completely off the bed. After catching my breath, I rolled over to see how she was. Laying flat on the floor, Louise took one look at me and started laughing uncontrollably.

Then she popped up as if nothing had happened and snuggled in close to me on the bed, saying "you ... you ... you, my big Fat Boy, were INCREDIBLE!"

"I was?," I asked modestly and meekly.

"You were -- I haven't had such a good *** in like forever!"

"Happy to have been of service my lady," I said as I leaned my head over and nibbled on her delicious ears.

Before long, Louise was exploring between my legs again, and said, "you know Ben, my family is originally from Kentucky, Blue Grass country, and I learned early on that you don't ride the hell out of a thoroughbred like you and put him up wet."

"I've heard that expression," I said.

"Well Ben, I definitely rode you hard so let's go take a shower and clean you up, then I'll dry that big fat body of yours up."

"And then?," I asked with a mischevous grin.

"And then my boy, you can come back here and I will go downstairs and bring back some of the Senator's special stash of goodies to fill that belly of your up!"

"I am getting a little hungry," I said.

"Just as I expected, Fat Boy ..."

 

Fiji

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Lulu Revealed

As Louise snuggled up to me, resting her head on my ample moobs, she said "tell me about yourself Ben."

"Not much to tell," I said, "graduated from college last Spring, lucked into a job with Lulu, and I feel like I've found my calling."

"Hmmm," Louise started, then paused, "Lulu ... Lulu ... have you and her ... uhhmm ... you know?"

"Of course not!," I said.

"But you would like to, wouldn't you Ben?"

"She's my boss ..." but before I could say more, Louise put her forefinger up to my lips to hush me, and said, "and she is a beautiful woman and has a thing for fat boys and men ... and you Ben, are a very fat boy! Just like my husband, only not quite as fat ... YET!"

As she punctuated her comment with the emphatic "yet," Louise slid her hand between my legs again to find me getting aroused for yet another time. Finding me hardening under her touch, she teased me, "you know why you and Lulu haven't gotten it on, don't you?" "No, why is that?," I asked in return.

"You're just not fat enough my boy! Don't get me wrong Ben, you are quite fat and I find you incredibly sexy, but Lulu, dear sweet Lulu, likes her men SO much fatter, usually at least 500 pounds I hear. And you, my sweet young boy, have a ways to go."

Just then my stomach let out a loud rumble and Louise giggled, "I guess it's time to get the Senator's goodies into that belly of yours." Then she paused for emphasis and said "perhaps I can feed you up and send you back to Lulu at 500 pounds, then maybe she'll send my husband back to me ,,,"

"What? Him and her?"

"Yes," Louise answered, trying unsuccessfully to hold back her tears. "All he wants to do now is to eat so he can gain more weight and please Lulu. She's withholding sex from him until he reaches 500 pounds ... she's evil and she has him in the palm of her hand. Soon he'll be so fat he can't possibly win re-election and then what will she do with him?"

"I can't believe she would do such a thing," I tried to say consolingly, but then I thought about what I'd seen with other fat clients of hers and I actually could believe it. And was I going to be her next victim, to be fattened to extreme proportions, but to what end?

I'd already been having second thoughts and Louise's confessions about her husband and Lulu were fast becoming a cautionary tale. And it got me thinking that I needed to find a way out, maybe while feathering my own nest, possibly at Lulu's expense.

And I was also feeling great compassion for Louise and the mental abuse she was suffering at the hands of her husband and Lulu. I rolled on my side and wrapped both arms around Louise and told her she didn't deserve "the Senator."

She whispered "thank you Ben," and we snuggled silently for perhaps ten minutes. Until she said "you're a good man and you'll make some lucky woman a great husband some day." "Is it too late for you?," I asked. "I'm afraid it is," she sniffled, with a tear running down her cheek, "I love the Senator and I just want him back."

"Maybe this is a stupid question," I started, "but why do you call him the Senator and not by his name?" That dried up her tears and brought a smile to her face. "I started calling him 'Senator' on our first date, back when he was still a lowly City Councilman, but I could tell he had a political future ... and it just stuck ... it's our thing."

"That's good, I guess," I said, "I was afraid it was some kinky thing that he made you do!"

"He's not a total jerk," she laughed, "he just fell under the sway of that evil boss of yours."

I gave her another big hug and said, "speaking of under the sway, how about that food you've promised me -- I'm really hungry now!"

 

Fiji

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Plotting My Strategy

"OK Big Boy, I did promise you some food. Let's get you out of bed and waddle you downstairs to the kitchen."

Louise put a short little robe on that accentuated her long legs, but when I tried to put a t-shirt on she insisted that I remain naked, "it will be so much more fun to feed you that way ..."

As we walked down the stairs, my belly shook up and down with each step I took and that drove Louise giddy with laughter. "How much do you weigh again?," she asked between giggles. "Around 315," I stammered, somewhat embarrassed.

"Wow," she said, seemingly in genuine awe, for a guy who doesn't weigh that much you have certainly grown yourself a monumental belly!"

"Monumental huh? I haven't heard that one before ..."

"Monumental indeed," she responded, stopping me midway down the stairs and leaning in for a long kiss while her hands cupped my hanging bottom belly roll. "This is just such a massive belly and totally beautiful!"

As we continued back down the stairs, I said "thanks, it's good to have someone who appreciates all the weight I've packed on."

Once safely down the stairs, she embraced me again and gave me a much longer kiss, letting her hands linger on my belly rolls then slide up to play with my floppy man breasts. And she continued her praise of my belly, saying "I just love how all your weight has settled in your belly ... and these magnificent breasts of yours."

"Yeah, I may need a bra soon," I joked. "Oh no," she faux gasped, "these babies need to hang free, just like this belly," which she then proceeded to grab a hold of with both hands and give a mighty shake with her powerful biceps.

"Ben, this belly really is a monument to obesity." Then she compared me to her husband, "the Senator, now he is truly fat, but fat all over -- he's got a fat face, a fat back, a huge ass for a man, massive thighs and calves, but his belly ... not so huge."

"But you Ben, you're just ALL belly and you're so damned sexy!" I was so turned on again, I wrapped one hand behind her neck and pulled her close for a kiss, while I reached between her legs with my other hand and started gently pinching her clit. Soon she was purring like a cat, a super sexy cat, and whispering in my ear what she wanted me to do with her.

"Bend me over the back of the couch and take me from behind Fat Boy ... that is unless you're too fat to take me from behind," she taunted.

"Challenge accepted!," I said and threw Louise over my shoulder in a fireman's carry and deposited her on the couch, where she obligingly leaned herself over the back and presented herself ever so enticingly for me.

"I can tell I'm never gonna get fed," I said, as I lifted my belly overhang and deposited it on her back and entered myself through her back door. What a contrast, I thought as I looked down at her back before it became obscured by all my fat. What a striking sight it was, her long lean beautiful back, so toned and taut that I could count her ribs, whereas you'd be hard pressed to even locate one of my ribs underneath all my blubber! Here I was, a veritable blimp of a man, with few prospects not that long ago, making sweet love to this beautiful Southern belle, the wife a freaking U.S. Senator. Was this all a dream? It sure seemed like it right about then!

My God, Louise was so much fun to be with ... she was so damn playful and she made me feel like I was a supreme lover, which I knew I wasn't. And I loved her constant teasing, like her telling me the weight of my belly was gonna put her spine out of place. It was a total turn-on!

Finally, after seemingly endless huffing and puffing, I felt her shudder underneath my weight and I came shortly thereafter as she exhorted "finish me off Fatty!" Totally exhuasted, I rolled myself off her and sat my ass on the floor, my back to the couch, belly resting between my legs on the oriental rug.

But Louise, the gym rat, still had boundless energy and dismounted from the back of the couch as if it was a balance beam, coming to a perfect landing on the balls of her feet. She looked down disapprovingly at me, sitting there like a soft lump of potter's clay, breathing heavily from my prior exertions, and playfully inserted her big toe into my gaping belly button and started wobbling my fat rolls up and down in a rhythmic fashion. She was quite amused by all the motion and commented once again that she couldn't get over how "monumental" a belly I had made for myself ... and "how much more monumental" it would no doubt get between her and Lulu!

With that, she removed her big toe, took a big step back and leaned forward to grasp my hands as if to pull me upright with her powerful arms. She grabbed my hands tight, took another step back, and pulled with all her might ... but nothing happened! Then she tried again ... and again, but there was no budging my 315 pounds of blubber ...

Finally, she said, "OK Fat Stuff, if you want to eat, you'll have to get yourself off the floor. I'm going to the kitchen." And then she was off, turning around about ten steps in to ask "are you coming?"

I was starving and didn't need to be told twice. Once in the kitchen, she reached in a cabinet and pulled out a dozen original Krispy Kreme glazed donuts and handed them to me. She added, "the Krispy Kreme folks have a dozen dozen delivered to the Senator every morning and he usually only gets through about half of them, but since he's out of town you can eat the whole dozen dozen if you want ..."

"No thanks," I said, "I'm not sure that is such a good idea after what you told me about Lulu."

"OK then," Louise smiled and patted me on my naked belly, "I'll fix you some real food, how about some scrambled eggs and bacon and hot buttered toast and jam?"

"Sounds delicious," I said, then reached into the box for just one donut to tide me over. But, of course, by the time Louise had gotten halfway through her preparations, the entire dozen was in my tummy and she was offering me a second dozen, which I wisely refused!

Over breakfast, Louise asked about my business plans and I mentioned Randy's offer to take me to New York and introduce me to fat men in need of custom tailoring. "Randy Burton?," she asked.

"Yes," I responded, "you know him?"

"Do I know him? He's one of Tom's ... I mean the Senator's (she laughed and caught herself) largest contributors. And the way he looks at Tom now that he's gotten so fat, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd like to do more for him, if you know what I mean ..."

"I don't know," I said, "he seems like a decent guy and apparently he's a one man man in a long-time relationship."

"Well, be careful around Randy, that's all I'll say."

"Interesting you should say that," I responded, "since he wants me to pack on some more pounds before I go up to New York ... he thinks I'd be much more effective selling to that select clientele if I myself was closer to 400 pounds ... and he wants to introduce me at some big party at his place in the Dakota."

"There you go!," exclaimed Louise. He's probably in cahoots with Lulu to fatten you up and return you to Washington as her quarter ton plaything!"

"Her kept fat boy," I muttered, the light bulb finally going on over my head.

As I took a bite of toast, Louise came and stood behind my chair and reached her hands down to massage my moobs, saying, "you'll be so fat by then I'll hardly recognize you underneath all your sexy rolls ..."

But then she got serious and pulled a chair up beside me and said "I don't think you really want to get that fat, do you?" I shook my head no, as she fed me a strip of bacon, then another. "Very well then," she said, "we have to come up with a counter-strategy, don't we Big Boy?"

And we came up with our plan as she continued hand-feeding me the pound of bacon she had fried up for me. And an ingenious plan it was ...

New York, New York

Fast forward to six weeks after my tryst with Louise and I had been in New York for four weeks, putting in place the strategy Louise had helped me hatch.

First, I explained to Randy that I wasn't so sure about the plan of introducing me at a big party and told him that I worked much better one-on-one with prospective clients and that I hoped he could help arrange introductions for me in New York. He thought that a great idea and did me one better, offering to put me up in his massive apartment in the Dakota for three months until I got settled.

I thought "wow," since the Dakota was one of the old school posh Manhattan addresses, the place where John Lennon and Yoko Ono lived, among others. Of course, I would have to share the space with Randy's partner, Brett, and their live-in chef, Francoise, whose real name I suspected was Frank from the Bronx. He seemed to feign a continental flair, but occasionally his working class roots seemed to show through and I suspected he could hold his own in a bar fight!

My four weeks in Manhattan had been quite eventful and it was definitely showing on my waistline. While I had promised myself that I wouldn't gain any weight, and might even lose a few pounds, it was impossible to keep that promise with the endless stream of lunches and dinners, and even power breakfasts, that Randy had helped me arrange.

While I was still unsure of his motives, I had to admit that he knew everyone in the financial sector in New York -- straight guys, gay guys, bi guys, fat guys, skinny guys, and guys in between -- and he was more than willing to line up introductions. And more amazingly, I was batting about .600 in converting those meetings into orders for new clothes.

But the pounds were piling on, particularly when my meal date was another fat guy like me. It was kind of like being in the presence of another fatty gave us both a license to overeat and always (always) to order dessert.

And, it didn't help me any that I was around Brett and Francois during the parts of the day when I wasn't out hustling business.

I took an instant liking to Brett, who was a lawyer by training but without any of the pretentiousness you associate with a New York attorney. He had a quick and very dry wit and we could trade barbs for hours on end. And knowing that I was irreconcilably straight, Brett had taken on as his mission finding me the right chubby chasing woman, someone my age who wouldn't mind if I put on a few more pounds.

Francois, on the other hand, was seemingly always leering at me, and constantly leaving platefuls of cookies, brownies, pastries, homemade donuts, you name it, in my room. And try as I might, the man was a great chef and inevitably more of those tasty treats made it into my gullet than remained uneaten.

I think Francois was a little bored with his job, having already fattened up Brett for Randy. Brett had told me than when he and Randy met, he had been a mere whisp of a man, at 210 pounds. But after five years at the hands of Randy and Francois, he now weighed at least 450 pounds if he weighed an ounce! Now that his mission with Brett was mostly accomplished I suspected that Francois saw me as a new gastronomic challenge. But I also wondered if he had something else in mind for me ...

Anyhow, that particular morning was a Saturday and Francois had the weekend off, while Randy was on the Left Coast on business. That left Brett and I alone in the apartment with seemingly no one to cook for us. I woke up first and donned a too tight polo shirt that no longer completely concealed by lower belly roll and a pair of old gym shorts whose elastic waist was no longer sufficient to fit over said bottom roll.

After a stop at the toilet to relieve myself, I ducked into Randy and Brett's small mahogany-paneled den, where an antique, but still functional, heavy duty scale sat in a corner (the kind with the big arrow that pointed to your weight). I climbed on and was shocked to see that in just six weeks I had skyrocketed from 315 to 341 pounds, four pounds a week on average. I quickly did the math and figured that if I kept it up for a year, I'd weigh an astounding 549 pounds! "Gotta lay off the food," I muttered to myself as I headed toward the kitchen to grab a bowl of Cheerios.

Just as I was finishing off my third serving, head tilted back to finish off the remaining milk, Brett sauntered in just in an old pair of boxers that had seen better days, and startled the hell out of me, sending milk dripping down my polo. Seeing me with head back and lots of belly showing, Brett chuckled and said "looks like life in Manhattan has been agreeing with you."

"You mean this?," I asked while patting my belly, making a loud thumping sound.

"Yep," he said, "looks like you've packed on a few pounds since moving in with us." "I'm afraid so," I said.

"Well, it's a little hard to have Francois around here and not pack on the pounds," Brett continued, patting his own substantial belly. "In fact, sometimes I think Francois won't be happy until the two of us combined weigh a ton!"

"Randy might not like that," I said, "he'd have to widen the doors for us." "You never know," Brett responded, "he is a chubby chaser."

As we laughed at that thought, the buzzer sounded, indicating that someone was downstairs and needed to be let up. "Damn," said Brett, "I expecting someone and she's early ... would you be a dear, Ben, and let her in when she gets up here?" "Dressed like this?," I said, and Brett said "don't worry, she'll love you."

As he rushed off to put on some clothes, I ducked in front of a mirror to straighten my bed head and pull my polo down as much as I could over my exposed belly roll. Then came the knock on the door and I sauntered over and looked through the peephole. What I saw was a revelation, a beautiful brunette with a cute bob hairstyle and academic-looking horn rim glasses, definitely a sexy librarian type!

As I opened the door, she said "you're not Brett," and I responded "no, I'm Ben, the roommate, and please come in." "Good to meet you Ben, I'm Mindy and I'm Brett's feeder."

She could probably tell by the look of shock (or was it awe?) in my face, then said "just kidding Ben! I come by a couple of times a month when Francois is off, just to make sure Brett doesn't starve to death."

All I could mutter was "OK." Then she barked, "no time for introductions, there's work to be done," and picked up two heaping full canvas grocery bags and asked me to grab two others sitting in the hallway. As I followed her down the hallway to the kitchen, I noticed that she had an extraordinarily pert little backside and I was instantly kind of smitten.

Once in the kitchen, she sat down her bags and headed to the pantry where she wheeled out a food trolley that I didn't even know existed. Soon she started unloading some incredible-looking delicacies from the first two bags and asked me to start unloading the two bags I'd carried in.

"This stuff looks delicious" I said, eliciting a little giggle from Mindy and the little dig "and you look like you'd know ..." "What does that mean?," I asked, feigning indignation. "Oh, it just looks like you have an intimate relationship with food," she grinned and poked a finger in my soft belly. "We are acquainted," I said and smiled back, as the touch of her dainty finger to my big belly sent an electric shock through my body.

Just then, a fully clothed Brett stuck his head in the door and barked "stop flirting you two, I'm hungry!" Then he was away and told Mindy he'd be waiting in the den.

Mindy barked back, "be right there, but gotta pee first!" Then she looked me in the eye and said "can I trust you to watch the food while I take a pee?" "Sure," I said, "you can trust me" and feigned reaching for a delicious-looking eclair sitting on the top shelf of the trolley.

Her response was a silencing, and oh so sexy, finger wag and the admonishment, "by 'watch,' I literally mean watch, not sample, not finish the entire trolley full of food, which as fat as you are I imagine you could do quite easily."

I reassured Mindy that she could trust me and she walked down the hall to the bathroom, but not before turning around a couple of times to make sure I wasn't sampling the goods, then reminding me that Randy would be none too pleased if the contents of the trolley made it into my belly instead of Brett's ...

All the while, I was thinking that this was the girl for me ... that Mindy was gonna be my chubby chasing wife!


 

Fiji

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Mindy The Feedress

All the treats piled up on the food trolley were beginning to make me extremely hungry ... after all, three bowls of Cheerios can only sate a fat man's appetite for so long!

But before I could yield to temptation, Mindy came scurrying back from the little girl's room and before she even hit the kitchen door, we heard Brett bellow loudly from the den, "Mindy, what's taking so long? I'm HUNGRY!"

Mindy rolled her eyes and said "he's such a drama queen when he's hungry!" Then she asked me to roll the heavily laden trolley into the den while she scooped up some other accessories.

As I negotiated the trolley through the tight doorway to the den, I was shocked to see that Brett, who had been fully clothed and impeccibly so just a few minutes before, seated on a sturdy ottoman and stripped down only to a freshly pressed pair of plaid boxers, in Blackwatch tartan plaid no less (a timeless design).

His belly was splayed out in front of him, so big that it could no longer rest on top of his thighs, but instead had forced his legs open and was nestled between them, protruding out almost all the way to his knee caps. I had grown fond of, and somewhat narcissistic over, my own big belly, but Brett's definitely put mine to shame -- it was simply enormous!

I rolled the trolley up beside the ottoman and Mindy was a couple of steps behind me carrying a funnel and some other accessories, including a whisk, a spatula, and a rolling pin. A little surprised at the tools she had chosen, my mind started to wander to how she planned to use them on Brett (and better yet, how she might use them on ME).

While I stood and watched, Mindy moved another ottoman directly in front of where Brett sat, then plopped herself down so close that one knee was touching Brett's hanging belly, just about at belly button level. As Mindy grabbed one of the delicious-looking eclairs and fed a bit to Brett, she used her knee to begin gently wobbling his belly up and down. The motion was mesmerizing for me and I began dreaming of being so fat that Mindy could do that to me!

After a couple of more bites, Mindy handed the remains of the eclair to Brett, then placed her dainty hands on his enormous belly to feel the effects of his chewing and digestion. As Brett reached for another eclair, Mindy kept her hands glued to his powerful top belly roll and commented to him, "you've gotten noticeably fatter from when I saw you just two weeks ago, it looks like Francois has been feeding you well in between my visits."

"He has," Brett mumbled, mouth full of eclair, "but no one feeds me as well as you do Mindy."

"I have to Brett," she cooed back to him, "after all, you and Randy are my catering company's biggest customers." Then she used her fingers to squeeze his fat and added, "and it definitely shows on your belly Brett."

Second eclair finally finished and before popping something else in his mouth, Brett asked "so Min, what do think of our young houseguest here?"

"I like Ben a lot and have found that he can be trusted around your food ... he didn't take a single bite of anything when I left him alone with the trolley."

"That's a first," Brett chuckled, sending tsunamis running through his rolls of belly fat, "our boy has done little but eat since he arrived in New York." "Thanks dude," I said to Brett, "here I am trying to impress Mindy and you tell her all I do is eat."

Mindy grinned at that and motioned me to step closer. "Pull that polo shirt up," she commanded, "it's not covering much anyway!" As I did, she removed one left hand from Brett's belly and placed it on mine, copping a healthy feel that sent an electric shock through my whole body.

Then she sent another electric shock through me when she said, "don't worry Ben, a man with a gluttonous streak is NEVER a turn-off for me."

"Hey!," Brett bellowed, you're supposed to be paying attention to me Missy!" And, just like that, Mindy's left hand left my belly and reattached to Brett's, as she used her right hand to pick up a huge croissant and feed a bite to her fat client.

In between first and second bite, Brett bellowed yet again, this time asking "where are my gainer shakes?"

"I'm sorry Brett," Mindy said imploringly, "there was too much to carry in and I left them in the refrigerated unit in my catering van. I can run down and get them if you'd like one now."

"How many did you make for me?," he asked.

"The usual, four." she answered and shot me a sly glance.

"Ahhh," Brett moaned, "7500 blissful calories each ..." then he looked over at me and said, "Ben, Mindy here is all tied up, can you be a dear and get her keys and go down to her van and fetch up the jugs?" "Sure," I said, then Brett sweetened the pot and said "and when Mindy is finished with me, she can serve one of them to you ... after all, you could stand to put on a few more pounds ..."


 

Fiji

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Best Ribs in Manhattan

It's now almost six months to the day since I met Mindy and was instantly smitten by the vivacious little minx. She reminded me a lot of Lulu, physically that is, but without all the Jedi mind tricks. And she was a lot closer to my age, 25 to my 23.

The day we met she spent a full eight hours tending to Brett until every bit of food on that rolling trolley was in his mammoth belly. After seeing how much he could consume, I knew that between Francois's daily meals and Mindy's biweekly marathon feedings that ultimately Brett would be lucky to keep his weight below a thousand pounds!

And soon, as I spent more and more time with Mindy, I began to think the same about myself ...

Our first date was that night, after she finished with Brett, I helped her carry things to her catering van, then hopped in the passenger seat as she took me to Virgil's, a great barbecue place in midtown. Along the way, all I could talk about with her was the amount of food that Brett put away that day. She laughed and correctly observed "you look like you could put away some food yourself Ben, I want you to really show me your appetite tonight at Virgil's, make a pig of yourself for me, whatdasay Ben?"

"You're quite the feeder, aren't you Mindy" I asked. But her response surprised me. "I told you I was joking this morning, I'm not a feeder, just a caterer. But I do enjoy seeing a man enjoy his food, whether it's mine or someone else's ... you might say it's kind of a turn-on for me.."

"So, if we dated, you wouldn't hog tie and forcefeed me?"

"Good heavens no," she said in a gentle tone of voice. "But if you wanted to eat everything ... and I mean everything, I sit in front of you ... kinda like Brett did today ... I certainly wouldn't stop you."

I chewed on that for a second before responding, "well, I guess that's good because I'm way too fat as it is and don't want to get any bigger ... at least for a while."

"Nonsense," she said, "a man can never be too fat ... unless of course he's too fat for me to chase him around any more!"

About then, we were within a block of Virgil's on 44th and, amazingly, a parking spot was open on the street. Mindy, evidently an expert at manuevering her van through city traffic, parallel parked without a glitch, and we were off for the one block walk to Manhattan barbecue heaven.

And, under Mindy's gentle encouragement, I put down five racks of ribs in a little over an hour, leaving sauce all over my hands, face, and beard. Fortunately, I was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, both a little tight after my New York weightgain, so it wasn't a problem that I had sauce all over them too.

Mindy definitely got a kick out of watching me make a pig out of myself and midway through she slid her chair as close to mine as she could so she could use the restaurant-furnished wet wipes to clean up my face or to dab my belly when sauce dripped down onto my shirt -- I was such a messy piggy she must have gone through a whole box of the handi-wipes!

Finally she asked the waiter to bring me a hot wet towel, which he did obligingly, no doubt thinking of the big tip he was going to get from the big fatty and his attentive date. As I finished the last bite, she stood up and wrapped the towel around my fat face, scrubbing hard and sending my jowls and chins shaking. Then she had me stand up and vigorously applied the towel to my stained t-shirt, this time sending my belly wobbling like crazy, as the rest of Virgil's clientele looked on with amusement.

I was so full I was in a stupor and hardly noticed that she had picked up the check. And as we were walking ... or my case waddling ... out the door, our waiter came running up holding a bag, excitedly telling Mindy not to forget her take-out order.

"Take-out" I moaned, "can't eat any more." She just patted me on my achingly full belly and said, "that's OK Ben, you don't have to finish these two extra racks unless you want to."

Of course, by the time we got to her place on the Lower East Side, I was quickly naked and had my hands all over one of the racks of ribs. Lacking any handi-wipes, she encouraged me to wipe my hands on my belly and then proceeded to lick it off! Soon she picked up the last couple of ribs and took a few bites herself, then rubbed her saucy hands against her perky breasts and invited me to lick her clean, which I did obligingly, enjoying her little breasts almost as much as the sweet barbecue sauce.

When I finished licking her clean, she reached into the second box of ribs and got one hand particularly soaked in sauce before using the other to lift up my belly apron and liberally applying the sauce to a particular part of my anatomy. Then using both sticky hands to push my belly back Mindy began licking away herself.

Between licks, she said "eat some ribs if you can reach them," but between soft moans I told her "they're too far away to reach ..."

"In that case, hold your belly back for me," and she repositioned herself on top of my dick while she reached for more sticky ribs and placed a couple on my chest. "Eat up," she cooed, "but only if you want ... I know you don't want to get any fatter, do you?"

"To Hell with diets," I said, "these have got to be the best ribs in Manhattan ... and you have to be the sexiest woman in Manhattan!"

"Why thank you Ben," she said, "I think you are the handsomest man in Manhattan and I wouldn't mind you getting fatter at all ... oops! I mean more handsome," she said with a wicked grin. "You just keep eating Ben and I'll keep ***ing you just like this ... you're such a sexy fat boy and my what a big appetite you have."

Between bites of pork I mumbled "I bet you say that to all the fat boys ..." She reached out and grabbed my moobs with her still sticky hands and said "only the ones like you who have extraordinary potential ..."

Those were to be prophetic words indeed, as six months later, I have packed on an incredible amount of weight. So much so that I have to go to a local tailor to take new measurements of my body every month so I can send them to Lulu back in Washington to have new clothes made for my now monumental body.

Lulu has taken to kidding me mercilously about the size of my belly apron, which now
hangs down my thighs halfway to my knees. She says it's "more than a belly apron," that I've built myself "an apron factory!"

She doesn't let me weigh myself very often, just once a month or so, but decided we must have a weigh-in for our six-month anniversary together. As I walk naked toward the bathroom where the heavy duty scale sits, Mindy notices that my apron is bouncing off my thighs with each ponderous step I take. She screams "stop right there Fatty!" so she can fetch her iPhone and make a video of my big bouncing belly rolls to send to Randy and Brett (who constantly ask Mindy for updates on their "boy's" progress).

The filming continues as I mount the old fashioned beam scale, one like you used to see in doctor's offices, with the weights that you slide across until the beam comes into balance. Since Mindy is filming, it's up to me to handle the scale. I slide the big weight over into the 400 pound notch on the beam, then slide the smaller weight all the way over, adding fifty more pounds, and still the damned bar doesn't balance. Mindy giggles and scolds me "you know you weigh more than 450 pounds now!"

I knew I was more than 450 pounds too, but did that just to see Mindy's reaction. So I slid the bigger weight into the 450 pound slot and finally the beam clanged down hard, confirming that I at least weighed less than the scale's 500 pound capacity! Slowly I pushed the smaller weight to the left until the beam finally came into balance at 458 pounds!

"Good Gawd," Mindy shouted for the camera and Randy and Brett's benefit, "what have you been eating to gain 117 pounds in just six months?"

"Must be all those gainer shakes you make me," I paused, before adding "every day!"

 

Fiji

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The Shower Incident

Mindy laughed and said "you do love your gainer shakes, don't you Big Boy?," before inserting two fingers into my belly button to give my blubbery rolls a good wobbling. Then she continued, "I just adore how your apron sags so low now and how even the slightest movement sends it wobbling uncontrollably."

I secretly loved the sensation too with every step I took now sending my belly rolls dancing up and down as if I was doing jumping jacks. But I pretended to Mindy that it was all her fault, just to test her reaction, telling her "I know you adore my jelly rolls but you shouldn't have let me get so fat ..."

My sexy girlfriend immediately cut me off -- "I didn't do anything Mister -- this monument to gluttony" -- pausing to grab my bottom roll with both hands to give it a powerful wobbling -- "is all on you. I didn't make you eat everything I sat in front of you, that was all you," she said in a scolding tone before wrapping her arms as far around me as she could and whispering in my ear, "but of course I love what it has done to your body, I find you totally irrestible."

"Ah thanks baby," I whispered back, "but remember that when I break 500 pounds."

"Which at your current rate of almost twenty pounds a month should be around Memorial Day," she cooed. "Don't remind me," I said, "I kind of dread the Memorial Day beach party at Fred's place in the Hamptons."

"Don't worry Ben," she said, "you'll be the handsomest quarter ton boy there all decked out in your 10X swim trunks or whatever size you'll be by then."

Then she made it worse by saying "besides I'm the one who should be worrying about the beach party because Fred's friends will be all over you and you know, I'm a very jealous girl!" With that, she pinched my nipples and gave my hooters a good shake, then went to hop in the shower.

I sat down for a moment to rest (it wasn't easy lugging around 458 pounds!) and began to ponder my future as a very fat haberdasher to a very fat clientele. Fred was a more recent client, another hedge fund guy with too much money, who had a thing for fat guys. He liked my sense of fashion and almost immediately had offered to bankroll me to create my own custom tailor shop and sever my ties with Lulu. I was planning to take him up on it, but just needed to make a trip back to Washington to break the news to Lulu.

I must have pondered my future too long as soon I heard Mindy yelling from the shower, "are you going to join me Fat Boy?" "Coming dear," I yelled back and padded to the shower watching my reflection in a full length mirror Mindy had installed on one wall of the bathroom.

With each ponderous step, my massive "double decker" belly (as one client called it) heaved up and down, slapping hard and noisily against my thighs below. And topside, each step sent my big floppy moobs fwapping against the top shelf of my belly. It was both amusing and titillating seeing all that motion with each little step I took and it produced a monstrous erection by the time I joined Mindy in the shower.

She grabbed a bar of soap and immediately starting lathering up my moobs, but I asked her instead if she could lather me up "down there" first and reached down to heave up my belly to allow her access. As she dropped to her knees, water billowing off my belly and onto her head and down her luscious back, she examined the situation more closely and exclaimed with the cool dispassion of a clinician, "my, the rest of you is so soft and cushiony, but this little appendage here is so ... so ... rigid ... I must explore it more thoroughly to see what it is."

Soon lather was being liberally applied as were her hands. "Can you feel that?" she asked as one hand was gently massaging my ball sac while the other was firmly grasping my appendage. "Oh yes," I moaned. "OK then," she said, "I'm going in for a closer examination, tell me if this is too much," and then I felt her take me into her mouth and begin a rythmic back and forth motion with her head.

Although my arms were tiring fast from having to lift at least a couple of hundred pounds of belly blubber, I was getting the BJ of my life, even better than Louise's several months before in the front passenger seat of her roomy Benz.

Finally when I thought I couldn't hold onto my ponderous wet belly any longer, Mindy grasped my balls forcefully and started rubbing them between her fingers, as if coaxing me to cum already, and I exploded my load into her mouth. Unfortunately for Mindy, however, the force was so powerful that my hands slipped from my belly, sending, I feared, the full force of my weighty belly crashing down upon the top of her head!

No doubt sensing her impending doom, she began pulling out just as my hands slipped, so all she got was a faceful of my abundant belly fat fwapping against her and causing her to fall back to the shower floor right on her delicious little derriere!

"So sorry babe," I said and bent over as far as belly would allow to see how she was after the near calamity. "I'm OK," she said, "but watch out, that monumental belly of yours could be quite the lethal weapon Big Boy!"

Once we got cleaned up and dried off, I mentioned that I needed to make a trip to D.C. the next week to deliver the last of my orders to Lulu and announce that I was severing ties. "Good riddance," she said, "I want that woman out of your life so we can move on with ours."

"Does that mean you've thought more about what I asked you three months ago, then again two months ago, and yet again last month?"

"Oh you mean getting married?"

"Of course that's what I mean," I responded, "what else could I have meant?"

She paused, seeing my anger rise, and gave her trademark cute grin and said, "in that case, my answer is yes, I want to be married to a big 500 pound mountain of blubber."

"You mean you've found a guy fatter than me?," I teased. "No silly, it just means we need to pack 42 pounds more blubber on you before I say "I do."

"And have you thought about where we'll have the ceremony?," I asked.

"I have indeed," she said, "I thought we could ask Fred if we could use his beachfront in East Hampton and that you could make yourself up a searsucker suit that will make you look even fatter than you are and that we could go barefoot on the beach and ..."

I interrupted her to say "and you could whip up a huge four-tiered wedding cake with a very fat groom and a very petite bride on top ..."

"Or maybe we could have an erotic cake topper," she interrupted, "with an enormously fat groom porking his skinny little bride from behind ..."

"Did I tell you I'm in love with you Little Girl?"

"And I you Fat Boy," she responded, giving me a big hug and long, long, long affectionate kiss.


 

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