Since I was in college, I had been slender. At 6" and 140
pounds, I was skinny as a reed. That was, until I met Linda.
We met through a blind date, suggested by my friend Al.
Linda and I talked over the phone, and she described herself
as "needing to lose 20 pounds." When she asked if that
bothered me, I said no. I have always enjoyed the plump
figure.
I fell for Linda the moment I saw her. She was wearing a
black and gold blouse, which showed off her blue eyes and
blond hair. She was truly stunning. I also noted with
satisfaction that she was quite a bit plumper than she had
let on over the phone. My guess was that she weighed around
230 pounds. We had coffee, and then arranged to meet for a
dinner at her place the next week.
On arriving at her apartment, I was greeted with a feast in
preparation. On the dinner table was a seven course meal,
including incredible desserts. In wandering around the
kitchen, I noticed several plaques, for cooking contests
that Linda had won. It turned out that she was a restaurant
and wine critic for the local paper, and had gone to
culinary school in France before eventually leaving the
restaurant business. It was during her time as a cook that
she had put on most of her weight, she said.
We sat down to dinner and pleasant conversation, and I must
say that I have never had a more incredible meal. After
around an hour I was completely and utterly stuffed, and yet
had not gotten around to dessert. Linda frowned when I told
her I simply could not eat anymore.
"I can see I'm going to have to work on improving your
appetite," she said. "I like my men to be healthy eaters;
how else can I indulge my love of cooking?" I agreed to try
to eat more after a short rest, and we retired to the living
room where we gazed in each other's eyes, and made some
brief chit chat before the talk turned to sex. Linda
confessed that she was very attracted to me, but was
concerned that my eating habits would not allow her to
involve me in her favorite sexual fantasy, which was force
feeding. I countered by saying that I would try anything
once, and that I would be honest with her if I disliked it.
With that, Linda asked if I wanted to stay the night, and I
said yes. We undressed, and went into the bedroom for some
of the best sex I have ever had. For my part, I found it
very enjoyable to sleep next to Linda's soft and round body.
In the morning, I awoke to find Linda bringing in a huge
tray of pancakes, drenched in maple syrup, in order to serve
me breakfast in bed. The pancakes were incredible, and while
I was eating, Linda asked quizzed me on all my food
favorites.
Over the next few weeks, we developed a ritual. I would come
over on Friday night, and quickly change into a loose
fitting robe. Linda would then serve me an incredible feast
until I was ready to burst, and we would retire to the
bedroom. For the rest of the weekend, I would eat 5 huge
meals a day, punctuated by sex and naps to sleep it off.
After a month, I had developed a hint of a belly, but had
only gained 5 pounds. Linda said that this was very typical
for very skinny men; only after months of her cooking would
my metabolism slow enough to allow me to "fill out."
However, every Monday morning we would monitor my weight,
which she would note on a chart in the bathroom.
By the end of the second month, I had gained another 10
pounds, and in the third month, another 15 pounds. I now had
the beginnings of a pot belly, which seemed to give Linda
considerable encouragement. "We've finally got something to
work with!" she gleefully exclaimed, poking me in the tummy.
"Now all we've got to do is keep this belly nice and full!"
And that she did. Linda increased my food intake 30% in the
coming weeks, while urging me to cut down on exercise to
allow for some serious weight gain. Those gains were not
long in coming. During the fourth month I gained almost 30
pounds, and now was on the verge of becoming portly.
Linda was nearly ecstatic about my hefty weight gain, and
loved to massage and kneed my growing belly. She joked that
I was a "growing boy," and needed to get my "minimum daily
requirements," which of course involved consuming thousands
of calories of her delicious meals.
Of course all this weight gain was playing havoc with my
wardrobe. My waist, which had initially been 30 inches, was
now up to 41 inches. One weekend, after I had changed into
my robe, Linda showed me some new clothes she had bought me.
The pants were a size 57 waist! I could not believe how big
they were. "They're huge!" I said. "Do you really want me to
get that fat?"
"They're not so big," Linda said. "And anyway, at the rate
you're gaining, these should be tight by Christmas."
She was right. The months went by in a blur of continuous
gorging, with Linda stuffing more and more food into me
every weekend, and the scale marching upwards at a rapid
pace. Just before Thanksgiving, my weight reached 275
pounds, and Linda vowed to have me "over the top" by New
Years day.
Ironically, while my weight was ballooning, Linda's was
plummeting. With all the attention she was paying to my
feeding, she had lost interest in eating, and over 8 months
her weight fell from 230 pounds to just over 155 pounds. At
5" 10 inches tall, she now barely hinted at her former
chubbiness; her hips had lost most of their extra flesh, and
her once soft ass was now firm and shapely. Her tummy,
which had once bulged provocatively, was now nearly flat.
By New Years Eve, those size 57 pants were quite tight on
me, and after almost 24 hours of continuous stuffing, they
split apart with a loud rip just before midnight. At that
point, Linda oiled down my bulging belly, gave me a
wonderful massage, and asked if I would marry her.