# Her Belly by Anonymous (BBW, Feeding, ~VWG)



## WG Story Drone (Jun 21, 2009)

_~BBW, ~VWG, Eating _&#8211; A young belly lover watches his gluttonous love grow, diminish and then . . .

*Her Belly . . .Or the Lack Thereof 
By Anonymous*

 (Migrated with a few small revisions from the _Weight Room Anonymous Archives)_

*One *​
I watched, hypnotized, as Sheila took bite after bite of her fajitas. It was her second plate from the buffet, each plate piled with two beef fajitas loaded with cheese and onions with a large side of beans and rice and nachos. After she finished the second plate, she got up to get her third. Her 5'2” frame looked full with her 160-165 pounds, I would estimate. 

Her tight, black pants were filled with her thighs and butt, which jiggled with every thundering step. Her wide hips swayed with her ass. The sleeveless red blouse left her dark, fat arms out. Not too fat, just right. Her large breasts showed off a good deal of cleavage in her low cut blouse, her bra making clear, half-rolls on her upper back, shown by the tightness of the blouse. And her belly, her large belly contained a good deal of food, but I'm sure that more would come with great comfort. 

Her round belly button dimpled right at the bottom of the blouse, a good inch and a half in diameter. It bounced a little when her soft feet hit the ground. This goddess, with her shoulder length black hair, round, full cheeks, graced to the buffet once again. I decided to make my move. I grabbed my plate and walked up with her. 

“Hey, Sheila,” I said, brightly, as I gave her a squeeze on her side. Not very accepting of her extra weight, she didn't respond positively to the squeeze of so much soft flab on her side, and she jumped in the opposite direction making a cute, high pitched “Oop!” sound. 

“Whoa there, are you alright?” I ask. 

“Oh, yea, you just scared me there for a second, Jim. How are you?” 

“I'm pretty good, good food, eh?” I said, as I began to fix a large beef fajita, extra peppers, which I put on her plate. “You've got to try one of these, they're really good, “ I assured, as if I didn't know she had already eaten 6. 

“Don't worry, I've had one or two. Yes, they are very good. The rice and nachos are great, too.” 

“Oh, really?” I grinned inwardly as I then loaded up a large portion of rice and nachos for her. “This is your second serving?” 

“Ummm, yea. The first one I just had one fajita and a little bit of rice and nachos, to see if I liked them. This will be my last one.” 

“Well, you don't want to go hungry, of course.” We walked back to where she was sitting, and I sat down next to her. I saw the other two plates on the table, with tiny bits of food all over them, which could not possibly be eaten with a fork, so she had done her job. 

“Well, there appear to be two other plates on the table, someone must have deviously planted them here, or else somebody's been eating some more than they claim.” I gave her an open palm rub of her rotund belly, to which again she jumped. 

“Hey, I hadn't eaten all day, gimme a break.” Something told me that, indeed, she had eaten prior to this, but I wouldn't want to make such a cutie mad. 

“Ok, ok. That's fine. I'm not one to limit you. So what have you been up to?” We made small talk while she worked on her plate. 

“Hey, this fajita is really hot, would you be a peach and get me some water?” 

“Not a problem.” Water? That wouldn't do, coke is more like it. I brought her a coke, without comment. 

“Thanks.” She drank a good deal of her coke before finishing off the plate. After she finished her coke, she sat back and we continued to chat. Her belly was really pushing at her blouse now; she was very full. 

“Are you still hungry?” Without waiting her reply, I got up and returned quickly with two fajitas and some more rice. “Here you go.” 

“Thanks a lot.” She took one bite of her fajita, which had even more peppers in it, and again I got her a coke. She didn't eat very fast, nibbling every two or three minutes. After an hour, she was done, and very full. Then they brought out a bunch of angel food cake. Her chest heaving, she eyed the cake eagerly. “Oh my, angel food cake is my favorite. Would you mind getting me just a little piece?” 

“Absolutely not.” I returned, of course, with an enormous piece, 1/3 of a whole cake. 

“Thanks again.” Saucer eyed, she seemed not to notice the size of the cake and dug in. After five minutes, she had finished it. 

“I know, I know, it's too much, but could I get just _one more_ little piece?” Another piece, about the same size was given to her, and I noticed that she had actually unbuttoned her pants while I was gone. She started eating, a little faster, probably because of the extra room. 

I saw her flesh pouring out from underneath her blouse and start to push down her zipper. I gave her a little poke and said, “You really like that cake, huh?” 

After quickly sucking in her ample belly flab, though it did not retreat far as her stomach was full, she replied, “Oh, yes. It's fabulous. In fact, I'm feeling like I have room for one more. Be a peach and get me one more just like this. With a little powdered sugar, if you can.” 

“Absolutely.” Oh wow, she sure was an eater. Another huge fattening piece of cake with a huge coating of powdered sugar returned to her. She was barely able to breath. But she managed to slowly put the cake away. We sat and talked - slowly and leisurely due to her breathing, of course - before we got up to leave. 

“Ok,” she said, “but just _one more_ piece of cake.” After the cake, she fastened her pants by some feat of nature, and I helped her up. Her belly, barely contained by her tight pants, pushed way out on her pants and blouse. We slowly left, though I'm sure that she was eager to finally stop her uncontrollable binge eating. 

“You don't have a ride home, do you?” I asked her. After she simply shook her head no, I offered her a ride home. She literally plopped into my small sports car, grunting out “Ummph!” as the car shook to her weight. 

“I'm so full. I _cannot believe _I ate so much tonight. I'm going to gain so much weight. I'm so full.” 

“This may help you.” In one fell swoop, I undid her pants and let her belly spill out. For a split second, she started to get mad, but then she realized how much better she felt, and just smiled and laid back. She began to run her hands over her belly, and then started to massage it. She really looked full. 

“You really did it bigtime tonight, eh? You look pretty full.” Another belly pat. This time, she just sat there, arms folded in her lap, no negative response. 

“You bet, I won't be able to eat for days.” 

(_Yea, right_, I thought.) 

“Ok, left here, and my house is the fourth on the right. Hey, why don't you come in for just a bit?” 

“Yea, sure. I don't have any other plans for the night.” I pulled up to the curb and I got out. I walked around to her side and opened her door. She swung her feet around and put her hands out, and I helped her out of the car. We slowly walked up to the door, her belly packed with food being held gently by her small, chubby hands. 

“My parents aren't home; the key's under the mat.” Instead of me getting the key, I felt an urge to humor myself and watch her get it. She slowly bent at her waist and her knees. Her soft love handles made her blouse and her pants separate, exposing what would be the small of her back, though her hourglass figure made this part of her back slightly wider than that right above it. 

She grabbed the key, but when she put the mat back in place, she started to slowly fall forward. I took action and grabbed the soft area right below her ribs and pulled her back. I'm sure that with her insecurity of her size that she didn't like my hands being there, but she would take that over falling in front of me. 

I then got into a spot position, as if a weight lifter were having trouble with a squat or something of that sort, and I put my hands right under her breasts, pulling her back firmly to my chest and then pushing up with all my might while I myself stood up. I ended up with poor Sheila in the air, as she was nearly a foot shorter than I. 

Now I'm a pretty strong guy, and her 160-170 pounds wouldn't be so much for me if I had my hands locked around her. However, with just my hands at her chest, this was pretty heavy. I started to lower her to the ground, but eventually my grip failed and she fell about 6 inches to the ground, and my hands slipped upward and ended up totally cupping her breasts. I let go in a reasonable amount of time, not immediately, but after a second or so. 

She turned around, half annoyed, but also grateful. “…Thanks, I'm sorry.” 

Then she opened up the door and we walked inside. She led me to her room. “Umm, I dunno, do whatever, I'm gonna change, I'll be out in a minute or two.” 

“Alright, take your time.” I was feeling a little thirsty, so I went and got a cup of water. I returned nearly two minutes later. 

When I was just outside her room, I heard a voice from the closet say, “I'm going to come out for just a minute. I left my robe somewhere out there, so close your eyes, ok?” 

Being as clever as I was, I quickly had grabbed the robe and hidden it away under the bed. When I heard her leave the closet, I waited about five seconds before I casually walked into the room and saw her in her bra and panties, each a size or so too small. 

“Jim!” She jumped. “I didn't know you hadn't left.” 

She had made a few futile attempts to conceal herself before saying, “Oh screw it, I'm not naked or anything. Have you seen my robe?” 

“No, no I haven't. I'm really sorry.” What a scheme; I was a crafty one. 

“No, no, it's fine. It wasn't your fault. No robe, eh? Well, you wouldn't mind me going around like this, would you? That robe is the only thing that would fit me comfortably, especially after that…sizeable meal. I've just gotten too big for my wardrobe.” She rubbed her belly, which stuck out and a little over her tight panties. 

“Yea yea, that's just fine. I understand completely.” 

“Thanks. Do you maybe want to come with me tomorrow and help me buy some new clothes? I really need them.” 

“Oh sure, I would love to. I'm not paying, though. I know you'll spend hundreds there.” 

“Hahaha, don't worry. My parents left a $1000 dollars. They went on a cruise for three weeks. They've been gone for three days now. You're the best.” I just smiled for thanks. 

“Oh my gosh, I'm so tired. I got four hours of sleep last night. My entire body is sore. I think I am going to lie down. You can sit with me if you want to.” 

We got on her queen-sized bed. “Do you think you could rub my back?” 

“Sure.” I replied.

She turned and lay on her stomach for maybe half a second before returning to lying flat on her back. 

“Never mind,” she said, “I'm too full to lie down prone.” She started to rub her belly a little bit. I gently worked my hand in there, and soon it was just me rubbing her belly. 

“Ohh, that feels so good, Jim; don't ever stop. You know, I'm normally extremely self-conscious about my size, but around you, I don't feel the least bit odd even letting you rub me like this.” 

“Really? You're not very big, how much do you weigh?” How smooth am I? 

“163 this morning. I weigh myself once a week. I was 161 last week.” 

“That's not big or fat at all. You've got a lot of muscle in your legs and your butt, so it's to be expected that you would weigh around there.” We must have sat there for two hours doing the same thing. Then she felt good enough to lie on her stomach, and I gave her a back rub. In fact, I didn't stop there, but I rubbed her lower back and her butt and her legs (she did say that her entire body was sore, right?) When she finally fell asleep, it was about 2 o'clock. 

I stayed up till about 5:30; involuntarily I had been rubbing her back until then. At 5:30, I got up and left. While I was driving home, I noticed that my neighborhood donut store had just opened up. I bought two-dozen fresh glazed donuts and 4 huge sausage and cheese kolaches and brought them back to Sheila's house. I left them on the kitchen counter with a note that had my number and about when to call me when she woke up. I then drove home and found deep sleep in my warm bed.


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## WG Story Drone (Jun 21, 2009)

*Two​*
The phone rang at about 11:30. “Hello?” I said in a groggy, tired voice. 

“Hey, sleepy head. Why don't you come over now?” 

“Ok, I'll be there in 30 minutes.” I had a quick bowl of cereal and drove over to her house. When I showed up, she answered the door in her same outfit, only this time with a half eaten glazed donut in hand. 

“Come in. You really shouldn't have gotten me donuts. I'm trying to watch my figure, you know.” She grinned. 

“That's not what it looked like last night.” I too grinned and gave her soft ass a pinch. 

“Come to the living room, you like ESPN right? I like _Sportscenter, _Kenny Mayne is so funny.” Cute, fat, great appetite, _and _she loves sports - what a catch. 

“Yea, I like it alright.” We sat down on her big couch, she in her blanket. One empty box of donuts lay on the coffee table, and another one with seven left was next to it. One kolache remained. She kept on eating while the show went on. 

By 1:00 she had finished everything, and she went to get ready. Her belly jiggled, hanging an inch over her tight panties. Her breasts bounced a little too, in their constricting containers. Her thighs and butt shook with each of her fast steps. She got around pretty quick for a big girl. I sat on the couch for five minutes, trying to suppress my erection, when she came back out. She was still in her underwear. “My stuff will be out of the dryer in 10 minutes. Meanwhile, we can always catch the exact same episode of _Sportscenter.” _

She sat down, unexpectedly, on my lap. Definitely a big girl. I put my hands around her waist and rubbed her belly for a while. Her belly felt soft, softer than last night. She wasn't very full from my generous breakfast. 

“Are you still hungry?” I asked her, concerned for my malnourished beauty. 

“No, but I'm not full. I shouldn't be eating, though. It'll be hard enough already to fit into the jeans I'm drying.” 

“Well, you can always go in what you're wearing.” I smiled and squeezed her several times on both sides. She giggled; her belly jiggled. Then she put her left arm around my shoulders (still on my lap) and leaned back. Her breast was right in front of my face, driving me nuts. A moment too soon, the buzzer on the dryer went off, and she tried to get up. Her tit hit me in the face in her first attempt, and she made it up on her second. I get her a slap on the butt as she left. 

She returned with a pair of jeans halfway up her thighs. She tugged and tugged, and they gradually slid over her wide hips. Then she pulled the button towards the hole (hah) and it was far from buttoning. She then sucked her belly in, which, when she stumbled around for footing caused it to jiggle rapidly, but this was just about ½ an inch too short from clasping. 

“I may need some help.” She smiled, and then lay across my lap, arching her back upward. I pushed her belly down while she forced the button to the hole, and she finally succeeded and proceeded to collapse from her arch onto me. A girl of her size would hit me with quite a bit of force, but her soft butt cushioned her fall, and she groaned from having the tightness under her belly. 

Her belly wasn't quite big enough for her to start to have to fasten her shorts or skirts at belly button level, and, might I add, this made her ass look much better. When she tried to sit up, her belly started to fold over, and when she finally made it up to her feet, the jeans were so tight that her belly hung over a good half-inch. She then put on a tight, tie-die shirt, which clung to her belly, exposing the bottom of it. 

When we got to the mall, she tried on a bunch of size 10's, which were too tight, but they all looked damn good. She bought several short skirts in size 14, which were a little big. She did fasten these just under her belly button, but I figured that with her rate of growth, that she would have to end up buttoning them below her growing stomach. In the dressing room while she was showing off a pair of jean cutoffs and a cute little tanktop. When she took off the tank top, I snapped her bra in the back, where it was indenting into her precious flesh, suggesting “Maybe you need some bigger bras too.” 

“Yea, I guess while I'm here, I might as well. My waist is about 36 inches, so I'm gonna guess that my bust is about 38, how does that sound?” 

“That sounds about right, and I'd say that this C-cup is a little small.” I pinched the little bit of breast flesh that was oozing a little out of the side of the cup. “Go with the D.” 

She tried on several bras, in different styles and colors, and I got to heft her breasts a little, saying “How does it feel?” and she didn't mind. I was definitely going to get pretty good with this girl. When she finally bought her $400 of new spacious clothes, we hugged and kissed for a little bit. She modeled some more for me, and then her belly growled, and she was in need of food again. 

She ate right through my wallet, getting two extra value meals at McDonalds, super-sized, of course, and then got a triple scoop of ice cream at 31 Flavors. 
With her hunger temporarily suppressed, we left the mall for an evening at her place. I played her some jazz trumpet, something I prided myself on, for about 20 minutes. She wanted to try some, and so I gave her the trumpet. With a mighty heave of her chest, she took a huge breath and produced a terrible sound. 

I started off telling her about breathing, “First of all, you don't want to breathe into your chest, but into your lower abdomen. It should look like you put on five pounds every time. Try it.” 

In another monstrous breath, her belly completely filled to capacity her new jeans and even pushed a little out over the top. 

“I said five pounds, not 50,” and I shook her belly twice with my hand; she shook it 10 times with her giggling, and it shook itself for 3 seconds after that. She gave up after a few more tries, but we had had our fun. 

“Hey, do you want to go in the hot tub?” she offered. 

“I'd love it. You go get changed and I'll grab your stereo and some CD's.” I hooked her system up outside and put on some good stuff and hopped into the hot tub. The warm water felt great against the cold February air. After two minutes, Sheila walked out, a bouncing goddess. The tight blue one-piece left little to the imagination. Her breasts bounced and jiggled, threatening to pop out to the side, though they didn't sag (a good quality, if I say so myself). The cold air made her nipples hard, and they were clearly visible against the blue fabric. The blue stretched tight across her big belly, her large navel wiggled wildly. 

“Towels!” She turned around and ran off into the house, her bubble butt totally exposed, the suit having rode up her crack. Her ass and smooth thighs jiggled and shook as she bounded into the house. She returned after a minute, with two towels and a big box of chocolates. She put the towels down on the outdoor reclining lawn chairs and came into the hot tub. 

“Ohhhh, this water feels so good on my tummy.” 

I opened up the box of chocolates and slowly fed them to her while rubbing her belly with the other hand. The hot water made her fat very soft and flabby. 

I invited her to come with me to Cancun during Spring Break, to which she readily agreed. I also asked her what she was doing during the summer. To my dismay, she revealed that her mom was making her go to a 10 week weight loss camp whose minimal weight losses ever were over 50 pounds. 

“You're going to come back so skinny! Of course, that DOES mean that we'll get to put it back on you again, which could be fun.” She smiled, and I continued to feed her chocolates. 

In 20 minutes, she had finished, and so I started to massage her back. After another 10 minutes she said, “I can feel the chocolates going straight to my thighs.” 

“Right here?” I asked, and put my hand at her mid-thigh. 

“Or more up here?” I slid my hand up ¾ the way up her thigh, squeezing the soft flesh. 

“Further than that, babe.” She slid her hand as far up her thighs as she could, having to spread her legs to keep them from touching each other. Then I slid my hand into her bathing suit, and eventually went down on her. I don't remember the details here, nor how long it took, but when we were done, her appetite was soaring again. She ate two bowls of chocolate cereal while I made her pancakes and some eggs. A breakfast for mid-night snack sort of thing. 

She was totally beat by now, 11:30, (so was I) and we fell asleep on her bed. I was shook until awaken at 6:47 in the A.M. by her murmuring “Could you get me a little something to eat?” 

“Yea, why not?” I slowly got up and fixed her a few more pancakes and eggs and a glass of chocolate milk (it was her favorite, she had told me). When I returned, 7:30, she was asleep again, but eagerly woke up to scarf down her mid-sleep snack. After a cute little burp, I put my hand on her belly and we both fell asleep again until about 11:00. I again prepared some pancakes and eggs, this time accompanied with sausage and bacon. She ate and ate. 

“I wonder how much my big girl weighs now?” I conjectured. 

“Well, I have been on my strict diet. I would guess no more than 120….125 pounds.” she said, obviously in jest.

“Yea, on the moon.” I squeezed her sides again. “Do you have a scale in the house?” 

“I sure do. Lemme finish these eggs off first. This is really good hon; I may want thirds.” 

After she finished her “meal,” she wobbled over to the scale. 

“You know, I think you're supposed to weigh yourself without any clothes on.” I suggested. 

“You know, I think you're right. These bulky clothes could weigh several hundred pounds, you never know.” She stripped to just her panties, her breasts, though very large, surprisingly lively and perky. 

She stepped on the manual scale, pushing the weight more and more up. “I was 163 just two days ago. 165. 170. 175. 176. 11 pounds, 2 days, not bad. Most of it is just dead weight, but I bet I got a good pound or two of fat out of these days of gluttony.” 

“Maybe more.” I grabbed a handful of her flab. She giggled. 

“Hee-hee. Just two days ago I hated myself for this. You turned me completely around. But let me know if you ever think I'm too fat. I'll just stop eating.” 

“Right. You….stop eating….I don't think so.” 

“You don't think I can? I'll do for two days, just to show you. I'll eat so little, you'll think I'd die.” 

“You're on, and if you lose, I'm going to feed you until you wish God didn't invent stomachs.” 

“Haha, you're so on!” 

She surprised me. She didn't eat more than 500 calories between then and when we went to sleep. But she woke up during the night and snuck out. I didn't hear her until her belly growled very loudly right when she was walking out the bedroom door, but I stayed down. I watched from a distance while she ate a monstrous meal. In 30 minutes, she was finally done, and belched. She cleaned up pretty well. Walking back to her room, her hands on her swollen belly, I leapt in front of her, prodding her in the stomach. “You know our deal.” 

“Yea, but what's that?” she asked, pointing behind me. 

While I was turned, she made a run for her room, but she was easily subdued, her weight hindering her. We had a laugh, and then I we went to sleep. 

“You can feed me tomorrow.” I agreed. We could get much better food at restaurants than in her kitchen. 

“O more,” she shook her head, through a mouthful of pizza. Her chin, cheeks, neck and chest were smothered in grease. Her shirt was unbuttoned, and her massive belly lay heavily on her lap, her pants having been unbuttoned. 

“What's that? I can't hear you?” 

She swallowed. “No more. I can't eat another bite.” 

“Aww, you've just got one more piece of pizza before the burgers, and that's it! You can do it. You're going to do it."

I put the next piece to her mouth, and she trudged her way through it. I couldn't get her to open her mouth for the burgers until I gave her a firm slap to her belly. With the deep “thunk” the slap made, I could tell that she was incredibly full. 

I looked at the ruins around her: one box of supreme pizza and one huge bowl of pasta, all gone. And now two ½-pound burgers. Perhaps I was a little bit harsh, but a bet is a bet. I began to shove the burgers down her gullet. I thought that she would explode. She even had a little fainting spell for about 10 seconds. After 15 minutes, she was done. She smiled at me; I smiled at her. We kissed and then I rubbed her belly. Then I took off her pants and you can take it from there. 

By the time her parents got back, Sheila was up to 190, and the clothes that I helped her buy the second day were tight. Her gaining slowed. In the next two months, she only gained 10 pounds, and went off to the evil camp just past the 200-pound mark. We agreed that she wouldn't write to me about weight while she was there. 

In mid-August she came back. I came to see her that night. 

“Hi Jim!” she exclaimed. I nearly died.


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## WG Story Drone (Jun 21, 2009)

*Three​*
“Hi, Jim! What do you think?” 

She modeled for me, in a pair of jeans that she was wearing when she left. Only, when she left, the jeans were like a second skin, and her belly had begun to droop over a little. When she hugged me, I felt her breasts, a little smaller than when she left, though they were still a good size. Her hard, back muscles were tense to my touch. 

“What did you let them do to you? Where is the rest of you?!” I poked her thin tummy. Though she didn't have a six-pack, her flat tummy was a big change. 

“Well, they showed me how I am supposed to be. I lost 75 pounds there. I like this much better. I felt so fat there. Now I feel great, I can go anywhere and everyone thinks I'm attractive.” 

“What about me? I liked you like that. I loved you like that.” 

“Well I'm sorry, but I can't go back.” There was a pregnant pause while we looked at each other. 

“That's alright. I'll love you no matter how you look.” She smiled, and we hugged again. I would fatten her up somehow. I knew it. Now that they were back from their cruise, her workaholic parents were rarely around the house. It gave me more time alone with their daughter, which is what I, of course, wanted. I started to take her to the mall, and we regularly dropped by the food court, but she stayed away from the fast food places. 

Two weeks later, there was little gain, if any. She still looked the same. 

I invited her over to my place and started to fix her food myself. She didn't eat a lot of it, but she loved my fruit smoothies, which I loaded with sugar and honey. They were irresistible. I told her that they were very healthy, too, which they would be had she drank them in moderation. But despite the fact that she drank tons of smoothies everyday, it still didn't show up on her figure. Finally, I added ice cream to them. She liked these even more. I'd hit a gold mine. 

A month later, the results were starting to show - just a little. Her weight was up to 130, a five-pound gain. She was just minutely softer, but now that it was getting into fall and the fruits she liked had started to go out of season, I got her to occasionally drink straight up ice-cream shakes. Since the cold weather kept her from running everyday, I knew she would start to get fatter and fatter. 

Another month: no fruit at all, just plain milkshakes &#8211; with whole milk, too. She has gotten her appetite back. She began eating out with me again, not just drinking her “health shakes.” If her parents said anything about this, she never mentioned it to me. Her weight was officially up to 145, and her belly was growing back. Her butt was getting rounder, and her breasts grew bigger again. Her clothes when she was around me were mercilessly tight (and very sexy). 

Thanksgiving: 152. I invited her over for dinner at our house. She always had a big Thanksgiving lunch with her family (as opposed to dinner), so today she was getting two feasts for the price of one. She went her meal with a vengeance. “Could you pass the potatoes, please? Could you pass the cranberry sauce, please? Could you pass the turkey, please?” 

She ate and ate and ate. I got so turned on. I would fill her plate, and she would eat it. She ate for a good hour. When the family dispersed, I took her to the big leather couch upstairs, and we watched some football. She held onto her belly, very full from her second big meal. After an hour of football, the triptofan from the turkey kicked in, and she fell right to sleep in my arms. My baby was back. I too drifted off. 

She woke up at 2 a.m. We had slept for seven hours. And, of course, she was hungry. “I'm a little hungry, baby, could you get me a little something to eat? Maybe a turkey sandwich?” 

“Your appetite sure is back. So is your belly. I thought I had lost it forever.” 

“Are you calling me fat?” she yelled, insulted. 

“I sure am,” I laughed and gently tackled her, tickling her belly. 

“Stop….you're…..making…..me….laugh….I'm…..not….fat!” 

“Then what's this?” I stop my onslaught and gave her a few pokes in the side. 
Then it hit her. She was fat, and she was always going to be fat. She looked like she was ready to break broke down and cry, but I staved it off by giving her a great big kiss. 

Then we made out on the couch for a little bit. One thing lead to another and, eventually, we went all the way (for the first time). It was incredible. And when we were finally about to rest for the night, her belly gave a monstrous roar.

“So how bout that sandwich?” she asked. 

By Christmas, she was up to 170. By February, 180. Then her parents went on another one-month trip again to Europe. We enjoyed that month; I guarantee it. We hit the buffet where we'd first met practically every night. She ballooned to 203 pounds. While her parents were disgusted, she'd learned not to listen to them any more. She'd lived with plenty, and she'd lived with denial &#8211; and she knew that plenty was better. 

By the time summer hit, she was 227, and at the end, she was 240. Her parents had given up by now, though they weren't as quick to give her money for clothes now that she kept outgrowing them. That was alright with me: I loved to see her in too-tight clothing. When she hit 260, her weight slowed down, even if her appetite never did. I loved her in all her gluttonous beauty. 

By the time we were married, my Sheila was up to 287. She'd lost her hourglass and grown apple-shaped, which was perfect, as far as I'm concerned. We remain happily married to this day and have never even looked back. 

Her belly continues to grow, of course . . .


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## The Id (Jun 21, 2009)

An absolute classic story. The edits here do seem to be pretty minor and don't appear to hurt the overall feel of the story. Nice to see it's made its way here!


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## Mr. Jigglesworth (Apr 24, 2020)

Excellent, loved reading this one.


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