# A Gift - by MaxoutFA (~BBW, Romance, Imagery, Eating, ~SWG,)



## maxoutfa (Jul 13, 2009)

~BBW, Romance, Imagery, Eating, ~SWG, - Young FA meets a young foodee who winds up giving him a present he never expected

*A Gift
By Maxfa​*
*Part I*

It was a confluence of time and place that put us together; a serendipity where if we had met a year earlier or later things may have been much different. However, in this time and this place we were serene with our kismet. 

I had become increasingly aware of my preference. Thanks to the internet and various web sites that I had found there I had seen that I wasn’t alone in my feelings. So at this point I no longer felt isolated and deviant, and was able to look at my true self and be ok with it. 

I suspect that if I had met Nancy earlier than I had, before I had come to accept and apprecisate my own natural desires, I wouldn’t have known how to handle things, nor had the inner strength to even allow myself hst I truly wanted. But the time was right and so began our journey.

The how and where of our meeting is inconsequential. I was in my second year of university and Nancy was an 18 year old high school senior. She was of average build and average looks &#8211; neither a skin and bones fashion diva nor overly plump, though somehow something told me that she would look good as a BBW.

Initially I didn’t have any grand plan in regards to her weight, and I think I fell in love with her for her mind and her attitudes. She was just so damned smart and funny in an offbeat kind of way that I had no choice but to love her. 

Still, something inside of me was just aching to see her gain a few pounds; no ultimate goal in mind, just the joy of watching her body swell. I held out little hope at first, not wanting to admit to my fantasy in the early stages of our relationship, lest she think me some kind of weird pervert, so I simply bided my time and let things unfold. Little did I know that I was doing things in just the right way and that the end result would exceed every fantasy.

It was early summer and we’d been together a bit over a month when I began to notice that Nancy might be the answer not only to my dreams, but my fantasy as well. I had just gotten off a half day’s work and drove to her place for a visit. We decided that since there was nothing of interest to eat at her mom’s place, we’d head over to Togo’s for a sandwich. While we were in line Nancy told me that she wanted a meatball and when I told here meatball sounded good she nodded and said “make it a large”. 

“Nah” I replied, “I changed my mind. I think I’ll go for the pastrami.”

“Whatever” she shrugged, “get what you want, but I still want a large meatball; and chips too, of course.”

I tried to act nonchalant as my heart skipped a beat. I guess I hadn’t noticed before that Nancy had such a healthy appetite, and this wanton gesture smacked me over the head. Her abject hunger and willingness to eat such a big meal surprised me. 

Girls just didn’t do that kind of thing, did they? I mean, all the other girls I dated in high school would never even think of super-sizing a meal; they always ordered small and half portions of everything. They were all so weight conscious, driven by peer pressure to be thin. 

I should have known that Nancy would be different, as she always seemed to follow the beat of her own drum, but as I said previously, she didn’t manifest any real outward signs of her appetite. It was still shocking, though, because she hadn’t ever ordered so much to eat before today

We picked up our order and headed back to her mom’s place, which was empty today as her mom and Nancy’s younger sister were away at some craft fair or something and wouldn’t be home until early evening. We grabbed a couple of sodas and headed to the back yard where we unwrapped our sandwiches and Nancy dug in with relish, pouncing on the sandwich like a predator cat.

I tried to keep up a conversation while intensely watching her chow down, my mind distracted by the simple elegance of her carnal craving. The way she bit into the sandwich, the way she licked the sauce from her fingers, her pouting lips parting to suck her fingertips, it was all divine! 

As I watched, mesmerized by it all, Nancy plowed through her large sandwich, her bag of chips and most of mine as well (another promising habit that I hadn’t fully realized yet); all in less time than it took me to eat my regular sized sandwich. 

My brain was on overdrive, just imagining how her body could swell under such a barrage of food, so I reached over and took her finger into my mouth intending to lick the last bit of sauce off her finger myself.

“Naughty boy” she purred, “You sure know how to get a girl all hot and bothered. I hope you’re prepared to follow through on your overture.”

“You making me an offer I can’t refuse?” I asked.

“Not if you know what’s good for you” she laughed as she pulled me across the table to meet her lips. 

I could taste the tomato sauce as we kissed, which made the sensation all the more palpable. Nancy moaned slightly and then abruptly broke off our kiss. She took me by the hand and led me inside to her room where she promptly stripped me to my skivvies while I slowly unbuttoned her blouse. She let my fingers caress her satin bra and the erect nipples beneath. 

After unhooking the bra, letting her C cups free, I led her to the bed where we continued to kiss, both sitting upright on the pillows. As I suckled a breast I let my hand wander slowly down her torso. The softness of her belly gave my brain an imprinted image of her full tummy straining against the confines of her shorts. 

There was a small ribbon of flesh hanging over the top of her waistband which I gently pinched before unbuttoning her shorts. She leaned back and arched her hips upward so I could move both shorts and panties from underneath her bulbous buttocks. With her hips rotated upwards it seemed as if she was thrusting her engorged belly at me, a vision that made my cock throb all the harder for her. 

As she leaned back against the pillows I moved over her like a spider, kissing her breasts, her tummy, her lips, her cheeks, while she fumbled with the waistband of my jockey shorts, She finaly tugged hard, ripping them down around my thighs and exposing my swollen cock. 

At this point I took her in my arms, raising her up from the pillows and kissed her long and hard before moving behind her, my kisses leaving a trail from her neck to her back. As I continued to nip at her neck, my hands went around to her chest, kneading both breasts and perking her nipples with one hand while the other moved down to her tummy again.

I mumbled inanities about how beautiful she was and how much she turned me on. She leaned back against me, pushing me back towards the pillows. Then she raised up slightly and bent forward so my member was able to find the path to paradise. She then lowered her sweet, full buttocks down onto my stomach, taking me into her velvet glove, her body trembling slightly as she began a rhythmic gyration of her hips. 

“You mind if I drive?” she panted as her rhythm hastened.

I couldn’t even fashion a response as I was in the throes of not only love, but lust. I watched her reflection on the vanity mirror across the room. Her beautiful breasts swaying to the rhythm as her belly jiggled and then expanded and contracted with her breathing; creating folds as she arched first forward and then down.

If I thought I was in love with Nancy before, this cemented the deal. Not only was our lovemaking fantastic, seemingly moving as one connected body, but she had fully awakened the fantasy within me. The revelation that she had not only a very healthy appetite, but a trencherman’s ability to chow down gave me all kinds of ideas. Where would she be in six months? A year? With a little coaxing from me, anything was possible.

********************************

As summer marched its inexorable path towards autumn I began to notice other niceties about Nancy; things that led me to believe that a serious weight gain was not only a possibility, but a probability if I handled things correctly. She had a little greedy streak that manifested itself at the dinning table. She was a grazer, the kind of eater that would prefer to sample the tastes of seven or eight appetizers to a full meal of one thing. 

By the same logic it became obvious that she had an eye for whatever was on my plate as long as it was different from her own, and had no problem helping herself to healthy bites of my meal. I was initially taken back by this, sensing that she fully believed that what was hers was hers and what was mine was ours. Then I realized that if we “shared” in a certain ay, if I only took one bite of her meal while she took five of mine, that in effect she was eating a meal and a half; I could just see the pounds and inches piling on. 

By Labor Day I just knew that she had gained at least five pounds and could feel the extra padding under my fingers caress. I wasn’t just fantasizing either; I could see how tight her jeans were on her. It was becoming more and more difficult for her to button and unbutton them, The button strained to keep the two sides of her jeans together while her widening tummy pushed them apart. The side straps of her bra were cutting into her flesh as a little ribbon of flab oozed out from underneath, and her cups were seriously full with her jiggly breasts threatening to overflow their confines.

We were lying next to one another one evening, my fingers caressing all this abundant goodness as we discussed my impending return to college. Upon graduation Nancy had gotten a pretty sweet entry position at an accounting firm and she would be taking a night class at the junuior college to enhance her position. I had been spending the summer doing carpentry, but now that school was about to begin I had to put that job aside. 

Nancy suggested that since she was pulling in some decent bucks we should pool our resources and get an apartment together. She reasoned that she could help support me so I wouldn’t have to work as many nights, which would enable me to take more units and therefore graduate quicker. It was a big step, but one I couldn’t argue with.

I managed to procure a part-time job as night-time manager of a McDonalds across from the junior college, which worked out great as it coincided with Nancy’s night classes. It was easy for me to take a bus from the University across town to my job - and then Nancy would pick me up for the ride home as her class ended only a half hour before Mickey D’s closed. 

As manager I was allowed a meal stipend, so just before closing I’d have Nancy order two quarter pounders and large fries at the drive thru. By the time I got out to the car five minutes later her burger and most of the fries had vanished. I took a couple bites from my burger on the drive home and then did the “in love” thing by feeding her the last couple of bites while she drove &#8211; an act that always caused a stirring in my loins, which usually meant that we’d get conjugal as soon as we got back to the apartment. 

These nights were especially magical as I knew full well that Nancy had already cooked herself dinner before going to class, so those three days a week when I was working, Nancy was consuming four square meals.

The weekends were just as good as I often took a break from my studies to bake cookies (and I’m forever grateful to my mother for sharing that experience with me). It didn’t take me long to figure out that if food was readily available then Nancy had a tendency to eat. 

If I put the cookies in a cookie jar then they were more or less out of sight and out of mind, but if I left them on the baking sheet, sitting on the counter in plain sight, then every time Nancy would enter the kitchen she would leave with a cookie. Once I figured this out, a batch of tollhouse was lucky to last the weekend. 

I was in awe of her appetite, and while she had put on probably ten pounds since I’d met her six months before it made me wonder why she wasn’t a porker when I met her. Then I remembered that there was hardly ever anything to eat at her mom’s place, so there was little there to temp her; but not anymore. Those days were over now. I wasn’t even being especially covert or forcing her to do anything extraordinary, I simply made sure that there were tempting things around the house for her to nosh on; cookies, chips, chocolates &#8211; all nice fattening comfort food things she could desire..

**************

It was early December and I was sitting at the breakfast table studying for finals when I heard Nancy rummaging around in the bedroom. 

“I think I know what I want for Christmas,” she called.

I got up from the table and made my way down the hall to stand in the bedroom doorway. Nancy had her back towards me and was looking at her reflection in the closet mirror. She was wearing only her bra and panties and I couldn’t help but notice that her hips had widened and her thighs had grown towards one another. Her buttocks seemed to have grown as well, wider and larger, flesh seeping out from below her panties with the swell of her cheeks looming over them. 

“And what might that be?” I queried.

She turned towards me, pivoting at the waist, her tummy jiggling as it pooched over her panties.

“A new body,” she sighed as she patted her belly, sending ripples across the soft expanse.

&#8216;Uh oh’ I thought to myself, &#8216;here it comes, the moment of truth’. I could play dumb or take the sincere approach. Since I couldn’t decide which I ended up just stalling for time, hoping that she’d give me some better clues.

“Why’d you say that?” I said as nonchalantly as I could.

“Oh come on, you can’t say that you haven’t noticed that I’ve turned into a hog; just look at all this flab” she replied as she grabbed a handful of said flab around her belly.

I looked, alright, did I ever, and had been looking and relishing that flab for quite awhile now. I crossed the room, pulled her hair aside and kissed her neck, something that always sent shivers down her spine. 

“You look yummy to me” I answered as my arm snaked around to cup her breast.

She fell back against me, purring, but then slapped my hand away and stepped away from me. 

“This is serious! You must think I’m disgusting! How can you say you love me?” she wailed.

“Because I do” I shrugged. “Look, it doesn’t matter what you look like &#8211; no, that’s not what I mean. I love you, I love the way you look, you are so sexy.”

She patted her protruding belly again and said “This is NOT sexy, it’s FAT. I’m just a gross fatty.”

She was on the verge of crying &#8211; this was not going well. I needed to correct the situation and quickly, otherwise I could kiss my fantasies goodbye.

I took her hand and looked into her hazel eyes. “Remember when we first met?” I asked.

She nodded, so I continued, “all the hours upon hours we spent in bed with one another?”

The ghost of a smile crossed her face.

“Has anything changed? Are we any less passionate now?”

She shook her head.

“Right, and that’s the point. If anything I’m more in love with you now than ever, and I lust after you just as much as I did the first day I met you…”

“But how can you when I’ve gotten so tubby?” she interrupted.

“Because it’s you” I replied. “I love you, and this body is you, so why wouldn’t I want to make love to it? Aren’t you happy here with me?”

Nancy squeezed my hand and shook her head “of course I am, don’t even think otherwise. I never thought I could be as happy as you’ve made me. These last months have been like a dream come true, which is why I haven’t paid any attention to my figure.”

“It’s been like a dream for me too” (in more ways than one, I reminded myself), “but this kind of talk scares me. Remember I told you about Monica, the girl I dated back in High School. She was always dieting and whenever she did she turned into a queen bitch. I finally couldn’t take her mood swings anymore.” I admitted, “and I don’t want that to happen to us. I just want us to keep being happy.”

“So you’re saying that it doesn’t matter to you if I’m fat?” she quizzed.

“Nope” I lied, and then told a small truth, hefting one of her breasts in the process, “no problems here” as I drew her closer to me and grabbed her beautiful full buttocks. “Allow me to show you just how much I love you.”


*******************************

In the afterglow, as we continued to caress one another, Nancy sighed “Then we’ve got another problem.”

“What’s that?” I mumbled.

“None of my clothes fit me anymore.” She replied.

“Nonsense, they’re a little tight, but it looks yummy, really.”

She shook her long blond locks, “No, really, I’m afraid I’m going to start bursting buttons and splitting seams, and I can barely get my bra snapped. I’m either going to have to lose ten pounds or get some new threads.”

“Hmm, how about I get you some new lingerie for Xmas? We can start there and then do some clothes shopping, it might be fun.”

She giggled, “New lingerie for Christmas huh, who’s the gift for, me or you?”

“Man, you’re too quick for me” I chuckled and rolled on top of her. “Anyone for seconds?”

*****************************

In retrospect I was amazed at how easily the crises was averted. It was almost as if Nancy was simply looking for affirmation that I loved her regardless of her extra poundage, and when she received that affirmation she seemed to quickly forget that we had ever had the discussion.

We had gone lingerie shopping and I was pleased to see Nancy was well fitted in a D cup push up as well as a size 12 teddy that was for “special times”. She was an absolute knockout in both, and I was also pleased to see that her panties had grown from a small piece of fabric to a more substantial number better equipped to handle her broadening backside.


Just before Christmas I received a couple of wonderful gifts. Finals came and went and I had a couple of extra days to decompress. One day I awoke after Nancy had gone off to work and noticed that she had emptied out her purse on the desk by the phone. She had mentioned that she had gone to see her OB for her annual, and here, on top of the grocery receipts and other riff raff, was a computer printout of her visit. 

It listed name, date of birth, etc, but then I got to see, for the first time in writing, her actual vital stats: five foot four and one fifty three pounds. 

_Half way to two hundred _I mused, _and wouldn’t that be just lovely_. 

I could imagine the extra rolls and bulges another fifty pounds would cause. How soft and pillowy she would be. Ah yes. For the first time since I’d met Nancy, I had a clear goal in mind.

The second gift would help me achieve my goal. I had received a wonderful little bonus from Mick D’s so I had enough cash to splurge on a lovely meal for my growing girl. As we were on a pretty tight budget it had been quite awhile since Nancy had had the opportunity to wear her evening dress; a plunging neckline, low back black number, with a tight bodice. 

I dressed quickly for the evening, as Nancy stepped into her panties and then bent over to move her breasts into their new home. I watched as her breasts hung full, swaying gently, and as she jostled them into position, gazed at her thickening belly as it lapped over her panties. Ah, sweet love and even sweeter lust.

Bra finally in place, she stepped into her dress, pulling up past the obstruction of her protruding tummy and then past her swollen mammaries. She made some adjustments, straightening the dress and then reached for the side zipper that tightened the bodice. She made slow progress, sucking in her tummy as the zipper struggled against her torso, finally defying all efforts about two thirds of the way to it’s destination. 

“Man!” she grunted, relaxing her belly muscles. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

“If you would allow a zipper expert the opportunity” I said in a formal British accent, “I think we may be able to cure the dilemma.”

Nancy tossed her hair back and laughed. “So it’s come to this, has it? I need you to pour me into my dress. It’s like a cartoon come to life.”

“Fear not, my princess, for I am equally as good getting you into your finery as I am getting you out of it” I jested as I pulled the material together and in one swift motion zipped her in.

Nancy laughed again and then slouched, her belly protruding even farther. “Be my guest” she said cryptically as I feared that perhaps another reminder of her swelling body might not be a good way to begin an evening of culinary excess.

I shouldn’t have worried.

We valet parked and Nancy emerged from the vehicle looking stunning. Her plunging neckline and push up bra were almost like a neon sign pointing to her extraordinary vleavsage saying “hey, take a look at this rack will ya”. 

As I came around the car to escort her inside I got a great look at her backside. The material was stretched tightly around her hips and hugged her ass like a glove, and I could barely contain myself as I watched them wobble as she moved in her spiked heeled pumps. 

As she turned towards me and offered her hand I could see a fold of flesh around her midsection, oozing out the back of her low cut dress. The dress’s bodice clung to her and reigned in the top of her belly, making a nice curve out to the flare of her hips. But from the point where the bodice ended was pure heaven; every bulge and ripple of her belly accented by the way too tight material, the indentation of her deep belly button and the crease around it prominently displayed.

We were seated and placed our order. Antipasto Misto, Carpaccio, and Bruschetta for appetizers, a primi course of mushroom risotto with truffle oil for Nancy and Penne with sausage and peas for me (and for Nancy’s wandering fork). For the main course Nancy chose a crusted salmon with herb butter sauce, while I had a veal chop in demi-glas.

We ate heartily, and as usual, Nancy poached a good portion of my meal as well as devouring her own. I wondered how the material in her dress was going to hold up to such an onslaught. Her belly was threatening to burst the seams when it was empty, and now it had to have swollen another inch or two with all the chow Nancy had put away. It was rapturous to watch as she hoarded the appetizers and then “split” the first course; one bite for me, two for her, one bite for me, three for her, a rhythm that continued through the main course as well.

At the end of the carnage Nancy licked her pouty lips and gushed about how fantastic it all was, giving detailed accounts about the flavors and spices of every dish. She took my hand and, looking me straight in the eye, told me that tonight was the best Christmas gift ever and that she loved me more than anything. 

I smiled and returned the compliment, wanting to drag her under the table right there, but such randy thoughts were interrupted by our waiter who presented us with the desert menu, going into great description over the evening’s special, some kind of hazelnut, pastry concoction sprinkled with praline sauce, served ala mode with amaretto gelato.

“Ooh, sounds to die for” Nancy uttered, “but I’m so full, I don’t know if I can eat another bite.”

And here, for the first time, I actively took part in the fattening of Nancy. “Why don’t we share one, you can have a taste and I’ll have the rest.” Knowing full well that one bite would lead to another, then another until it was I who ended up with only a taste.

As Nancy spooned up the last lick of praline sauce I reflected on her gluttonous display. She not only had quite the rapacious appetite, but seemed to have a hollow leg as well. I probably ended up with not much more than a bite or two of the three appetizers; she ate at least two thirds of my penne and half of my chop, plus her own pasta and main course, and then had the fortitude to devour the desert. 

In all, I’d give her credit for two appetizers, one and two thirds helpings of pasta, and one and a half main courses, plus dessert. Wow.

We finished off the last of our wine. In synchronicity she placed her hand on my leg at the same time that I slid my hand under the table to grasp her thick thigh. We giggled and I let my hand move up a little farther, gently rubbing the inside of her thigh. 

Her breathing deepened and she whispered in a little desperate voice “let’s get out of here”.

I brushed my hand upward, feeling the fullness of her taught belly as it made a parabolic arc and then removed it to slide out from the booth. Standing above her I offered her my hand and she slid from the booth and struggled to rise. 

“Hmm” she sighed, “baby’s a little tipsy.” 

She kind of lurched into me to give me a quick hug and kiss and I felt her roundness squish into me. Man, she was so freaking voluptuous. 

She threw her hair back, giggled and made an attempt to re-center and smooth her dress. She was a little wobbly on her heels, which caused her to lean back slightly as she walked, jutting out a belly that seemed to have grown six inches since we sat down. She was a true vision to behold, her belly so big and distended, her cleavage just beckoning for me to nestle my head between her two ripe orbs; and as she walked, everything jiggled and moved, creating rolls and folds of flesh.

I had my arm around her thick, hard waist as we waited for the valet to bring the car around, my fingers flexing a roll of flab that was squeezed between her panties and the course of least resistance, the opening of the low cut back of the dress. 

“You really do love me like this, don’t you” Nancy purred as she leaned into me.

“I love you” I whispered into her ear and then gave her lobe a quick nibble for good measure. She laughed and forgot that I had failed to answer her question; or maybe it was obvious.

***************************

As we drove home Nancy almost fell asleep, the after effects of all the wine and the result of all her blood supply being centered around her belly. I almost had to carry her up the stairs to our apartment; my god she was getting heavy. Once safely inside she stood in the middle of the bedroom and purred “come undress me.”

She stood before me her arms straight out from her side, her belly jutting out as if she was pregnant and all I could think of was &#8216;Madonna mio’. I undid the clasp that held the plunging neckline in place, letting it fall to below her bra. Then I undid her bra, letting her succulent globes dangle down atop the shelf of the bodice.

“Ooh, a nice start” Nancy chuckled.

Yeah, but now I had my work cut out for me. I was afraid the side zipper was going to burst, so I proceeded slowly, drawing the zipper down; it was way too nice of a job to rush. About half way down I paused as her belly rushed towards freedom, almost folding over the zipper. 

I hefted the flesh away from the zipper with one hand while pushing the zipper the rest of the way down with the other. I assumed that once unzipped, the dress would fall to the ground, but though her belly was pushing it that way, the dress caught on the shelf of her buttocks so the dress appeared to be a sarong, wrapped around her wide hips and bunching up with her panties beneath her swollen belly.

I knelt in front of her and pulled the dress the rest of the way to the floor, gazing up at the curvature of her stomach, which from my vantage point seemed to block all the light from the room. I reached for that round orb, soft with a layer of flab, yet so hard and taught underneath. I was tempted to just leave my hand there on her belly forever, but didn’t want to be overtly obvious, not just yet, so I lowered my hand to her panties and slowly moved them down past her padded thighs.

Nancy wobbled and almost fell sideways as she stepped out from the dress and panties, sending her breasts into luscious gyrations. She steadied herself and then patted her engorged belly. 

“New center of gravity” she giggled, sending her breasts into even more lovely gyrations. She raised her hand to her hair, and struck a sensuous pose as she tussled her hair. Unfreaking believable, how could anyone look any more sexy?

As she continued to mess with her hair I watched in fascination as her firm, heavy breasts swayed, not failing to notice the ribbon of flesh that extended from her breasts around her rib cage. Baby’s finding new places for curves.

She brought me out of my reverie by stamping her foot. “Well, here I am, looking all sexy. Ya just going to stand there, or are you going to show a girl the proper appreciation?”

“I don’t think I can even begin to show you jut how much I’m lusting for you right now” I replied.

“Oh well,” she smirked, “the least you can do is try.” 

She stumbled towards the bed, and half fell onto the pillows. “Come here, big boy. Come and screw me proper.”

I was more than happy to comply, but to my surprise as I climbed onto the bed Nancy turned her lovely back towards me and whispered “I want it this way, let’s spoon.”

How did she know? It was more than I could hope for. Spooning allowed me to fondle and caress her newly enlarged belly and as our pace quickened I ended up grabbing a handful of her flabby middle and drew her to me, her well padded ass providing a perfect cushion. If I were to perish at this moment I would die happy.

*******************************



(On to Part II)


----------



## maxoutfa (Jul 13, 2009)

*Part II*

The months flew by, winter nights cozying up to my swelling girl as we gazed into the playing lights of our artificial fireplace. It was truly heaven. I was living my fantasy, watching the woman I loved gain right before my eyes, and I didn’t even have to work at it. No underhanded tactics necessary, no force feeding or anything subversive, Nancy was fulfilling my fantasy all on her own, simply by being a girl who loved to eat. 

I was amazed that I didn’t encounter more “I’m too fat” episodes, as I’m sure she had to notice the extra inches, or worse yet, that her co-workers would start talking. But if they did, I never heard about it, and Nancy didn’t seem to have any adverse reactions, in any case.

The need to replace her wardrobe was a concern at first, but as I did it slowly, it seemed more like I was giving presents than a necessity. It became almost a ritual, every other Sunday we’d head to the mall and Nancy would try on clothes while I watched and brought her other clothes to sample. We would end up buying one outfit, but the joy of watching her try on hundreds, each a different look that put her growing body into the spotlight, was heavenly. 

The size 9’s that she had squeezed into when we first met were long ago banished to the back of the closet, never to see the light of day again. She was really more of a ten back then anyway, but now most 12’s were too tight, and depending on the manufacturer, even some 14’s were a problem. I watched as Nancy tried on one pair of 12 jeans that were cut skinny legged &#8211; yeah, as if a size twelve was going to have pencil legs. Nancy tried to get them up her thighs but gave up about halfway up, her thighs looking like overstuffed sausages overflowing their casings.

There were no histrionics on her part. No &#8216;oh my goodness, those 12’s don’t even come close to fitting, I’m going to diet off twenty pounds right now!’ It was as if she had taken no notice of the size, the exercise being reduced to a simple &#8216;this fits’ or &#8216;this doesn’t fit’.

Of course the mall was a great excuse to spend time at the food court, where Nancy could indulge her grazing instincts, going around the world, sampling plates of Chinese, Italian, and Mexican all at one sitting. 

As we hung around the food court I had the opportunity to watch the flow of passers by. An awful lot of plump girls running around, but I noticed that most of them seemed to have issues, hiding their bulk under loose fitting clothes, or slouching as if to hide themselves from the world. 

Of course there were some who flew in the face of convention, wearing hip huggers and those tight form fitting tops, my Nancy being one of them. I felt immense pride that this outgoing beautiful, full figured Venus was by my side, and could care less about the sidelong glances she was getting, as just the sight of her broad, large, well cushioned butt crammed into a pair of low riders was enough to stir my manhood.

*******************************

One of the few bumps in the road occurred around Memorial day, slightly more than a year after we’d first met. It was one of those lovely first warm weekends, the harbinger of summer yet to come, so I suggest that we go and hang at the pool, soak up some rays and all. Nancy said sure, but after I had changed into my suit and gotten some towels and lotion into a travel bag I noticed that Nancy hadn’t emerged from the bedroom yet. 

“Ya ready hon?” I hollered, hoping to speed her up.

“Umm, you know what &#8211; I’ve changed my mind, you go on without me” came the voice from the bedroom.

&#8216;What the ....?’ I thought as I headed back towards the bedroom. “C’mon Nan, it’s a beautiful day and I know you want to get a start on your tan.”

“I can’t go” she replied as I walked into the room.

There she was standing before the mirror in last years’ bikini. She turned towards me and said “see what I mean?”

It hadn’t struck me until then that in the year that had gone by Nancy had slowly and steadily packed on the pounds. I mean, I know that she was gaining, but didn’t realize the full effect until seeing her in last years bikini, a bikini that was woefully inadequate to the task of presenting even a modicum of decorum. It was neon pink, and I’d always thought it was fetching, if a bit too tight on her even a year ago. 

Now, it is an isue. The bottoms consisted of a thin strip on her backside that was connected to an even thinner strip in the front by 2 hoops at the side. The visage was stunning. I would be being generous to say that the strip at the back covered half her ass, flesh tumbling out from the bottom while her cheeks rose over the top, showing some heavenly butt cleavage &#8211; nice for me, but not something you’d want to show off to the prudes and youngsters poolside. And that was only the beginning.

The hoops cut into her beefy hips almost obscenely, like they were a tattoo instead of a garment, while the thin front panel cut deeply into her pillowy tummy causing an inner tube of flab to cascade above and hang over the material like an avalanche in mid fall.
Her cushy hips surrounded the hoops threatening to lap over the top even as the flesh squirted out from the bottom.

Then of course there was the top. It was one of those numbers that tied around the back with another hoop in the middle, drawing the two cups together. It was blatantly obvious that the top was at least two sizes too small, cutting deeply into her back flesh while the side panels allowed flab to bubble over like a lava flow. 

The cups barely contained the bottom half of her swollen globes, her nipples barely concealed while the top of her dark aureole peeked out. As the bottom portion of her breasts were confined in too small a space, it forced the top half to erupt upward and outward. I was amazed at the sheer abundance of mass. D cups, yeah, maybe six months ago. 

And speaking of sheer mass, between the expanse of too too small top and too small bottom, came Nancy’s belly. No longer a cute poochy thing, no, this was a full blown pot belly, not even pretending to have to behave by any rules, it started jutting out at just below her breasts and above her no longer visible rib cage, arching outwards for several inches before gravity took hold and thrust it downward to where it lapped over her bottoms. So large and yet so soft and squishy. Any muscle tone covered by inches of blubber. 

She looked so sexy and vulnerable standing there. Just how much had she gained. Fifty, seventy five? All I knew is that she was way, way bigger than she was the last time she had worn the bikini.

All this was running through my poor addled brain as the electrical impulses were getting derailed by my libido just looking at all that abundant goodness. It’s funny how when you are around something every day the small changes that add up to big ones aren’t noticeable, but now I had to admit that Nancy was no longer just a little chubby, she had gotten gloriously fat, and while my fantasies were all about gaining, my mind’s eye couldn’t do justice to the reality. 

I don’t know what I expected really, some 20 or 30 pound gain is where my fantasies usually went; visualizing an increase of bust and hips and the addition of a bit of soft tummy, but Nancy had gone beyond that, putting on 50 pounds at least and going from a tummy to a full blown fat belly. I remembered that before Christmas she was 153 according to her OB, so what was she now, 175, 180? And I remembered that when I saw the OB report I was thinking about 200 &#8211; some magical figure. I really didn’t have a visual on that, but the way Nancy looked right now was a pretty good approximation. She had grown fat and I thought she looked hot.

She shook me from my reverie by saying “You see what I mean? Well, do you?”

“Uh, I guess we’re not leaving much to the imagination, are we?” I mumbled.

“That’s putting it mildly” she replied. “I’m bursting out of this thing all over. They’ll probably lock me up for being obscene.”

“but man it looks hot though.” I ventured.

“Yeah, if you’ve got a thing for the Michelin Man’s sister. This top’s so tight I can hardly breath, and even my rolls have rolls. I look gross!” she exclaimed.

“You look hot, Nan, trust me. I can barely contain myself” I confessed. “Tell you what, why don’t we have a little frolic to release my tension and then we’ll go to the mall and get you a new bikini, what do you say?”

“A new bikini! I think this body’s gone way past that point. I either need to drop 40 pounds or you need to get real and send me over to the old ladies one piece suits.”

“No way,” I replied. “I’ve seen some one pieces that were totally hot.”

“Yeah, on models” she chided. “Not on a butterball of blubber like me.”

“Ok, then we’ll get you a bikini a size or two larger. You’ll look great” I said as I crossed to her and put my arms around her thick, soft middle. “But first, let me show you just how hot you are to me.”

And that was that.

*****************************

Shopping for a new bathing suit was a blast. Nancy must have tried on a hundred of them; and there I was in the catbird seat, in perfect position to be a voyeur, getting the lovely view as she struggled into some on piece numbers that were too small; pushing her flab and rolls every which way. We had almost decided on a bikini after all, finding one sturdy enough to house her massive décolletage, but while the bottoms were equally sturdy, large enough to cover the majority of her rear end, it rose almost to her navel, looking more like a diaper than anything remotely sexy.

She tried on several one pieces that had little skirts or aprons to hide the old midriff bulge, but I thought that they made her look too matronly. I mean, she was in possession of this beautiful burgeoning belly, so why try to hide it, especially when everyone knew that this was what you were trying to do by wearing such an outfit; and it didn’t work all that well anyway. Might as well admit to what you’ve got and show it to best advantage.

We finally found the right one; a dark blue, clingy, Lycra like thing, cut low enough to be sexy, yet with enough foundation to push up her breasts and keep them in place. It fit her well too. I don’t know about swim suit sizes, but for what it’s worth, it was 16 DD. It had slimming side support panels as well as tummy support in the front, as well as small, angled straps of a lighter blue on the sides that gave her the illusion of some waist definition. There was a diamond shaped cutout in the back that showed enough flesh to be promising without exposing her inner tube of flab. 

Even so, since it was clingy Lycra that stuck to her like a surgical glove you could still see where the flab on her belly began, just above her Mons, as well as the ribbon of roll just below her deep belly button. All in all eye catching, while remaining somewhat understated.

“You really think we should get this one?” Nancy mused as she took in her reflection.

“Welll yeah” I enthused. “It fits you great and looks fantastic. What’s not to like?”

“I dunno” she stammered. “It’s just that… well… you know” she trailed off.

“Know what?” I prodded.

Her hand had absently run down her jiggly belly. “I could stand to lose 20 or 30 pounds; I mean, a lot more than that really, but maybe if I shed 20 or 30 these bulges won’t be so blatant.”

“You’d rather have something that covered it all up. Some old lady outfit. Is that it?”

“No, not that” she sounded exasperated; as if she was having difficulty expressing the emotions she was feeling. “I just thought that, maybe, you know, you’d be embarrassed to be seen with such a flabby porker.”

“Why would I be embarrassed when I think you look gorgeous? If anyone’s embarrassed it must be you; and if you are you have to think about why. You trying to impress someone?”

“Well, no” she answered gingerly.

“Then what’s the deal?” I asked. “If you’re not trying to make an impression upon the faceless masses then you shouldn’t really care about what anyone else is thinking; and that is how it should be. This is you, you are who you are, and have every right to be happy with yourself. If you aren’t happy with yourself then you are buying into the diet Nazi’s trap. You are happy, aren’t you?”

“Of course. I love you so much and I can’t even imagine a better life than what we have” she confessed. “It’s just that I’m such a ball of blubber.”

“Ok, ok” I interrupted, arms up with palms outward. “The equation is simply cause and effect. You’re happy, life is good, but the only fly in the ointment is that you seem to be having an issue with the way you look, which is based on what society has drilled into you as being acceptable. Do I have it right so far?”

“About sums it up” she said sheepishly. “I mean, I know I shouldn’t care about what other people think, but it’s not easy to shut it off.”

“So here’s the deal” I continued. “You are happy, you enjoy eating, in fact probably also enjoy the freedom of being able to eat whatever and whenever you want to; and for the most part are guilt free about it. But that freedom has a price, which has manifested itself in some poundage which, I might add; your lover doesn’t seem to mind. So it all comes down to you. You can continue to be free, but that requires a change in how you see yourself. Instead of moaning about your lard ass and bulges you can learn to acknowledge them as confirmation of your freedom’ like flying a flag that says &#8216;I am who I am and I’m happy with who I am and no-one can tell me I’m not beautiful’.”

She grabbed her belly roll and wailed “how can this be beautiful?”

“Because it’s you, my love; it’s who you are. You love to eat and refuse to bow to the will of the masses. That’s you all over! Look, you know how the diet industry plays the game, showing how all the people who have lost weight now have such wonderful lives. But look at the revealing statistic; 80 percent gain the weight right back in under two years. 

"And you know why that is? It’s because in the end nothing has changed. There is no magic free pass to happiness; no free pass that says that if you lose weight you’re entitled to a better life. Your crappy job is just the same, the men are the same assholes they were before; weeds still grow in the garden. And what is worse is that there’s a natural let down after the achievement of a goal. You’ve striven for it and now that you’ve hit the finish line all you can say is that, according to what the diet machine tells you, you are more attractive. But are you? 



'Sure, self esteem goes a long way in determining how attractive you are, but face it, guys may say they want a super model, but most of that is knee jerk &#8216;hey look at the babe I’ve got’ insecurity looking for peer approval. All a man really wants is someone who’ll care about him and fuck his brains out. Any guy that truly lives his life only by appearances is a shallow and insecure asshole and not worth trying to have a relationship with in the first place.”

“So” I continued, “in the end it’s up to you, and you know that I’ll support you in whatever you want to do. But I just want you to be happy, and I don’t think a strict diet is going to do anything but make you miserable &#8211; and for what &#8211; just so some pounds come off and you conform to someone else’s view of what is acceptable? 

"Am I making any sense to you?” I asked as I took her hand in mine and looked her square in the eye.

She paused for a moment, closing her eyes. When she opened them a tear ran down her cheek. 

“You really do love me, don’t you?” she whispered. 

“You know I do,” I replied, “more than I ever thought I could love anything.”

“And you really don’t care if I’m such a blimp?”

“Nope” I answered. “Remember, I said that I think this is the real you. If you dieted down to some hundred pound waif it would be a lie. The reasoning is all wrong. You are an individual, not a conformist. You savor the taste of food, and enjoy eating as much as anyone I’ve ever known. To turn your back on that aspect of yourself is perforce not being true to yourself. Don’t lie to yourself, don’t conform, don’t deny yourself what you like to do, because there is no reason to; and above all else, love yourself.”

“Oh Mark, how’d I ever get lucky enough to be with someone who knows who I am and can love me for me?”

“You are the woman of my dreams, Nanc, the embodiment of every dream come to life. Be you, be happy. I love you.”

We hugged each other for a long while, right there in the dressing room, almost sobbing as we each were so overcome with emotion.

Finally Nancy broke the embrace and smiled at me. “Ok, no more silly self doubt. I am who I am, Nancy Lard Butt, and if the rest of the world doesn’t like me, well then screw them. The only people that matter are you and me. You think this suit looks hot, so do I, so let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Nancy changed back into her tight size 16 jeans and even tighter leotard shirt and we presented the suit along with our credit card to the lady at the kiosk. As we waited for the card to go through, Nancy leaned against me and purred “you know, we’ve been at this all afternoon. It’s almost dinnertime and I’m getting hungry. How about we head to the food court; I haven’t gone &#8216;round the world’ in ages.”

“Your every wish, my desire” I grinned, meaning every word.


----------



## maxoutfa (Jul 13, 2009)

*Part III*

Over the rest of the summer Nancy, or &#8216;Nancy Lard Butt’ as she now liked to refer to herself, spent as much time poolside as possible; “working on her tan”. It was working, all right; she was a delicious bronze, arms and legs; a beautiful contrast to her pasty white pillow of a belly.

She prowled around the pool in her one piece, jaw set and belly thrust forward, almost daring someone to look askance or make a rude comment. A rebel with a cause. 

As Labor Day approached we realized that soon our summer routine would have to revert back to our rest of the year one as I would soon be returning to school. We were doing ok in every regard, my summer carpentry job had good wages and Nancy had gotten a nice raise and a re-assignment to assistant CPA, which meant that she had both literally and figuratively outgrown the receptionist chair. 

I assumed that even an accounting firm had to worry about first impressions, and even though Nancy always dressed professionally, I think that it was safe to assume that she was just a bit too corpulent for the corporate image.

One evening as we sat on the balcony, pina coladas at hand, watching the setting sun paint the sky in pastel hues, we discussed the concept of image and what drove it. It was mystifying, almost as if form didn’t follow function and perception was nothing more than a software program; one that seemed to have a will all its own. Here we are, eighty years past the suffragettes and yet the glass ceiling remains.

I postulated that power and the threat of losing it was at the base. Men had enjoyed the control and didn’t want to give it up. They didn’t understand women, and many were actually afraid of them. Truth be told, I suggested, the true sharks of the business world are women. When they latch on to a goal they throw body and soul into it; no distractions, no detours, just achieve the goal at all costs.

It made me wonder that a species that could be so nurturing and caring could also be so ruthless. I thought perhaps that the professional woman of today was subjugating one for the other. In putting aside the mother instinct what remained was to nurture one’s self and one’s career, which is why they throw themselves at the task with such fervor.

I suggested that if women could temper that self protective instinct, moderate it to some degree, then a modern matriarchal society would truly be a sight to behold. But as it stands, with a woman forced to be ultra competitive just to receive half the recognition, then the achievement of that balance would be long forthcoming.

I glanced over at Nancy as the blood red sunset was captured in the highlights of her stylish blond locks, and thought to myself - _and you, my love, have it twice as hard._

Not only a woman, but a blond one. Well at least she wouldn’t be considered a bimbo, an upside to her increased girth &#8211; and I wondered about that too. Fat people are portrayed as weak or stupid, and blonds are considered clueless and self centered; but if you combine the two the stupid onus seems to go away. All the more reason to ignore all of the sociological paradigms.

So Nancy, by moving beyond plump and into fat, had side-stepped the bimbo label, but still had to live with the onus of being fat. Studies have shown that even males who were considered overweight had a hard time advancing past middle management. It was as if there was some unwritten tenant that suggested that fat people were only that way because they could not control themselves, and if you couldn’t even control yourself, then you had no business trying to gain control of a business.

Of course all the CEO’s who had worked their way up by being lean and mean were given a free pass now that they had achieved corporate godhood and could sample the manna of the good life.

Fat prejudice was rampant in 21st century society. The notion that you are defective or substandard because you aren’t in lock step with the late 20th century notion that thinness equates to intelligence and social acceptance.

I wondered if there would someday be a person of size who would mobilize the masses: tell the world “I have a dream” and make us all aware of the abuse directed at the overweight. It would be amusing to hold rallies at Krispy Kreme.

Nancy admitted that she often got disapproving looks from some of the male CPAs when they walked by her desk to see her enjoying a Danish. 

“Probably think it’s a waste of a pretty face” I suggested. 

“Too bad for them, lucky for me” I said as I reached across and put her hand in mine.

To be honest, I’d been thinking a lot recently about just how lucky I was; to have this fantasy come to life before my eyes. I had no idea now much Nancy currently weighed, only that it was much more than the 153 she was at last December; and while I had dreamed only of watching a girl gain weight, that was the be all and end all of it, other than some abstract musing about a 200 pound woman. Someone not just chubby; not obese either, but a nice comfortable, soft, zaftig fat; just the way this beautiful angel sitting next to me had become. As the setting sun set her hair aglow and she sipped her pina colada in abject bliss I wanted her, now and forever.

I had promised myself that I wouldn’t marry until I was out of school and able to be the “bread winner”. An old fashioned notion, but one that still meant something to me. It was certainly alright for my mate to pursue her own career, but I wanted to be able to say that I had one of my own, so I could be an equal partner.

At the current rate of my class load I knew I had a year and a half to go for my credential, but as I knew what I wanted for the rest of my life, why not commit now? 

I was still holding Nancy’s hand, her cherubic face aglow in the soft light of the fading sun. “I love you Nan” I began.

“Love ya too, Mark” she rejoined.

“I never want to lose you” I started.

“And you never will, silly” she interrupted, not making this any easier for me.

“I want to shout to the whole world my commitment to you and our love. Will you marry me?”

She turned towards me and a playful look came across her face, betrayed by a sparkle in her eye. “What, you want to buy this cow when you’ve been getting the milk for free?”

“C’mon Nan, I’m serious. Let’s get married.”

“It’s just a piece of paper Mark. People go back on their vows all the time” she replied.

“But I won’t. I love every molecule of you” I began.

“I KNOW you won’t, dear. But I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me that you love me. Not a piece of paper of any other symbol just to show me that you care.” She fell silent for a moment and then queried “you really want this huh &#8211; all the pomp and circumstance and hoopla?”

“I don’t care about the mechanism, all I want is to say that I want you forever and will love, honor and respect you always.” I replied sincerely.

“Wellllllll” she mused, “a pretty convincing argument, I daresay.”

“Then you say yes?” I gushed.

“Not so fast fella” she chided. “First a girl’s gotta see if her husband to be can satisfy her needs.”

“Very funny Nanc, but c’mon, this is a serious question I’m asking.”

“And so is mine, so march into the bedroom mach snell and let’s see what you’ve got.”

I headed for the bedroom and began unbuttoning my shirt.

“Uh, uh, uh” Nancy chided, “who gave you permission to do that? You’re off to a pretty shaky start young man. You want to deny me a chance to survey the goods?”

She moved towards me and slowly began to unbutton the shirt herself. Two buttons down she stopped and backed away, her fingers drumming on her lips. “Hmm, nice rack” she commented as she moved a hand across my chest and pinched a nipple to erection. “Nipples a bit on the small side, but sensitive enough. So far a passing grade, but there’s much more to discover, so don’t get your hopes up.”

She then unbuttoned the remaining buttons of my shirt and pulled the tails out from my pants. “Not exactly a washboard stomach, but I prefer the modern conveniences anyway” she giggled. “Now we come to the nitty-gritty. You know what they say; &#8216;size doesn’t matter’ and that it’s &#8216;quality, not quantity’, but that’s only valid to a point. If I need a magnifying glass to find what I’m looking for down there I might as well just get a vibrator; they last longer and are lower maintenance. Just replace the batteries every now and then and it’ll be ready when you are.”

“When have I EVER not been more than ready and eager for you?” I said indignantly.

“Sure, you’ve done admirably to date” she replied, “but over time things can change, parts wear down… although I’ve heard of girls who have worn out their vibrators too… but I think that’s just an urban legend. Regardless, since we’re talking about a fifty year lease/purchase, I really want to kick the tires.”

She undid my belt, unzipped my pants and unceremoniously pulled them and my shorts down around my ankles, exposing my erection.

“Well well” she mused “our little soldier is standing at attention, ready for examination. Hmmm, the size is…. Adequate.”

“I thought you were going to say admirable” I grinned.

“My my, don’t we have a high opinion of our self” she chided as she knelt to take a closer look, her legs spreading open as her belly rested on her stout thighs. “Ok, decent circumference, though nothing to write home about, length…now let’s see…” as she ran a thumb and finger down the length of the shaft, making my toes curl. “Nope, as I said, adequate. Nothing exceptional, but I suppose it’ll do.”

Then she pushed me back onto the bed and pinned me between her well cushioned thighs. 

“Mind if I take a test drive?” She purred as she quickly pulled off her kimono, turned her back to me and squatted her wide, thick ass over my stomach as she guided my gondola into her canal.

As she started her gyrations I found a nice hand hold on the roll of fat over her wide hips, my fingers sinking into the spongy fat, thinking &#8216;ah, so this is what love handles are’. 

I flashed back to that day 15 months ago when Nancy, then a cute little plumper, had positioned herself in this same fashion, only now the breadth of her behind easily spilled over me, the bump and grind sending waves and ripples across her cheeks as her flab wiggled and jiggled. 

As she moved forward, pressing her hands to the bed to steady her, I mentally compared what I was seeing now to my memory of 15 months ago. Not only was her ass much bigger, and her hips wider, with that lovely roll of fat so conveniently placed for my hand hold, but her entire backside was larger. The extra flesh on her arms had widened her shoulders, while the inches of flesh around her rib cage were beginning to force her arms outward from her body, no longer to hang straight down from her shoulder blades, but having to swing outward around the extra flab.

I held on to my purchase for dear life as she increased her motions, bucking and moaning and then shrieking with release. For my part I kept driving, thrusting my hips up against the soft yet solid weight on top of me. She shuddered again and again and I arched upwards and as she bent further forward wrapped my arms around her thick middle and sat up behind her as she continued to grind her fat ass into my midsection, causing me to finally explode, muscles going all spastic as we both tilted over to lay, spent and spoons.

After catching her breath Nancy murmured “Where do I sign?”


*****************************


So it was that we traveled out to the burbs to make the announcement of our nuptials to Nancy’s mom, who we hadn’t seen since the holidays. In the few encounters I had the opportunity to suffer through I found her to be very condescending of her daughter and one of those &#8216;you can never be too thin’ types who, while only being in her mid forties, looked tired and haggard due to her over teased hair and skeletal body that had no fat on it to help hide all the crows feet and wrinkles.

I also knew that Nancy was in excess of 20 pounds heavier than when we had last seen her mother, something that I’m sure good ol’ mom was sure to comment about, in her gentle, acidic way.

Nancy’s younger sister, Ruthie answered the door, giving us both enthusiastic hugs. Ruthie was 13 when I met Nancy, a skinny kid in braces, so you had no idea of whether she would end up emulating her mother or looking more like Nancy as she got older. Now, a bit over a year later you could see some development taking place, gaining some décolletage and semblance of curves; in other words growing from a girl into a young woman. She was an inch or two taller and perhaps ten pounds heavier; a natural growth, and with the beginning of her curves I pondered how she would turn out.

We retired into the living room, Nancy taking a seat on the sofa beside me, wearing a fetching short brown skirt with matching camisole top. We chatted with Ruthie about her summer and then Nancy’s mom entered the room. 

Nancy struggled up from the couch and gave her mom a hug, which was barely returned, her mother seeming to flinch as if Nancy had some fat disease that mom didn’t want to catch. Mom was wearing a sleeveless jumpsuit that displayed her bony arms and flattened body. She had on an overabundance of makeup, as if she were trying to make some kind of impression on her daughter and her beau. It was an impression all right, but perhaps not the one she was looking for.

We made small talk for a little while, Nancy telling her mother that she had moved up from the reception desk and was actually doing some accounting work, and had received a nice raise to go with the added responsibility. Mom decided to take all the credit by reminding Nancy that it was she who was first aware of Nancy’s penchant for numbers and therefore pushed her daughter in that direction.

Finally, Nancy took my hand and said “Mom, Ruthie, we’ve got an announcement to make. Mark and I are getting married.”

Ruthie shrieked and ran over to us, giving us each a huge hug. As she hugged me she whispered “you’ll take good care of my big sister, I just know it.”

I’m sure that &#8216;big sister’ was just an affectionate way of referring to her older sister, but there was no denying that Nancy was indeed Ruthie’s big, big sister.

During Ruthie’s exuberance, mom was taking it all in and you could just see the wheels turning. Her daughter was gaining weight and now we were getting married; aha, she was preggers!!!. She offered congratulations while giving me a cold look that would have frozen the sun. I caught on to where she was coming from; if she believed that I had knocked up her daughter, then why the veiled hostility when I was, to her way of thinking, doing the right thing by marrying Nancy? There were other, much more unsavory scenarios out there.

“Well” asked mom, “when’s the blessed day? There’s so much that needs to be done. I just hope you’ll give me ample time to help set things up.”

Yeah, like we’re going to need your help, I thought to myself.

“We’re thinking next June after Mark gets out of school” Nancy answered.

Mom blinked, as if she had been slapped. June was 9 months away, so there went her preggers theory. Finally a false smile came across her face, her crow’s feet crinkling with the effort. 

“How wonderful. That will give you some time to take that weight off. All eyes will be looking at you as you walk down the aisle, so you really don’t want to waddle like a stuffed pig and ruin your day.”

Nancy’s grip on my hand tightened, a harbinger of her going off on her mom. As much as I’d like to see her defend herself and cut her mom a new one, I interjected, rising to Nancy’s defense. “I’m sure she’ll look radiant.”

Mom gave me a funny look as if she just couldn’t comprehend why I would be marrying her daughter, especially after I’d witnessed her turning fat BEFORE the wedding. Well mom, to each their own, and I just can’t get enough of your daughter, so get used to it.


********************************

On the way home from mom’s, Nancy complained of an earache. Thinking that she was being funny, a snide reference to her mom, I laughed and said that the day had given me a headache as well. 

She said she was serious, her ear actually did hurt, and when it hadn’t cleared up by the next morning I suggested she call her GP once she got to work as earaches were not something you wanted to mess with.

That evening she explained that she indeed had an ear infection, probably brought on by too much time in the pool. She was given some antibiotics and told that they should knock out the infection within a week but to keep taking the meds for the entire week.

She had left the prescription info as well as the paperwork from the MD on the entry table, and as I was tidying up I took a look at her doctor’s printout. It was pure gold, having a history of every visit dating back five years. At fourteen she had been in for the mumps, still a young girl at five foot two and 116 pounds; at fifteen she had sprouted up to five foot three and 125 pounds… hmm, becoming a young woman. The next entry was 14 months later, just before her 17th birthday for a bladder infection. She was at her full height of five foot four and had gained another seven pounds to get to 132. My finger moved up the page and low and behold, another entry just a month before we had met; some kind of rash that was an allergic reaction. 

I couldn’t wait to see the number, as this would give me a good reference starting point of Nancy’s weight when we had met; a slightly plump 138 pounds. OK, and the last entry 16 months later; the paper was shaking in my hand; 184 pounds. Close to a fifty pound gain in less than a year and a half; almost 4 pounds per month, or a pound a week.

As I put the papers away the thought came to me that Nancy was 64 inches tall and her head was a foot of that, so that left 54 inches, meaning that my growing girl had gained close to a pound for every inch of height, with most of the weight being centered from her chest to her knees.

It was funny how seeing her weight gain recorded in black and white had almost the same effect on me as watching her grow in person; some kind of validation perhaps. It was equally odd that, seeing how the numbers were affecting me, we never seemed to talk of her weight in actually numbers. 

I know she probably stepped on the scale at least once a week, but I never heard her say &#8216;oh my word, I’m up to 165’ or anything like that. Nor did she announce that she had gained a pound or lost a pound. In fact we hardly ever spoke of her weight at all, something that I realized I was missing. 

I realized that those times she had spoken about being fat I had held in trepidation, fearing that she would come to her senses at last and go on a serious diet; but I knew that, even through my fear, our discussions of her size had a certain turn on for me as well. To hear her call herself a fat cow, or her current pet name of Lard Butt was in some small way thrilling to me, even as my daydream of 200 was exciting, even though it had originally been nothing more than an iconic measure of what luscious should be. I had to admit that 184 was plenty luscious in its own right though, and probably equal to what I had envisioned in my mind’s eye in any case.

*****************************


----------



## maxoutfa (Jul 13, 2009)

*Part IV*

By the time I was back in school, Nancy’s infection had cleared so we were back to normal, on our school time routine. On the night before my first class I reminded Nancy that she could set the alarm back a half hour. She said she wasn’t going to as she could get some stuff done around the house, and not to worry, I could turn over and catch that extra half hour sleep and she would wake me when it was time.

So that first morning I felt her lips lightly brushing mine as she whispered “rise and shine sleepy head.”

I groaned and stretched my arms finally wrapping them around her and bringing her to me for a more suitable morning kiss, her lips and tongue tasting like cinnamon. 

“Hmm, don’t get me started” she purred, “or we’ll both be very, very late. Go on and get your shower and I’ll have breakfast ready by the time you’re out.”

When I exited the shower my nose was assailed by heavenly smells emanating from the kitchen. I quickly shaved and dressed and entered the kitchen just as Nancy was placing a large stack of buttermilk pancakes on the table. She turned and smiled. “Perfect timing. Have some O.J.; coffee will be ready soon, along with bacon and links.”

I downed my juice and forked a couple of the large, thick, flapjacks onto my plate. Nancy set down a platter of links and bacon and then returned a moment later to pour coffee.

“Wow” I said, “IHOP’s got nothing on you.”

Nancy bent forward, exposing a bit of her lovely cleavage. “Better service and much better décor” she grinned.

“I’ll say”, I agreed.

I watched as she poured herself a half cup of coffee and then went to the sideboard to finish filling the cup with cream. 

“That’s different,” I said, as before she had always taken her coffee black.

“Yeah, one of the girls at work brought me a mocha the other day. I never realized what I was missing; so now I’m hooked.”

She took the rest of the coffee and poured it into a thermos, then went to the fridge and poured in the rest of the pint of cream. And not just any cream I noticed, but Bavarian Heavy Cream. She held the thermos up to me and said “I’m not going to pay Starbuck’s prices.”

“Admiringly frugal,” I smiled.

“You bet your ass,” she replied as she sat down, forked half a dozen flapjacks onto her plate, melted a tab of butter between each pair until the pancakes were swimming in a moat of butter, and then topped it off with a liberal pouring of maple syrup.

She grabbed a handful of bacon and at least a half dozen links and dug in.

When her plate was about two thirds empty she suddenly stopped and said “oh my word, I almost forgot. I made cinnamon buns! They’re still in the oven on low. You want one?”

“No thanks, Nan, this was plenty.”

“You sure, they’re really good, I had one earlier.”

Aha, so that’s why her lips tasted so good this morning. Another case solved.

“C’mon hon, I want to give my hubby to be a nice breakfast on his first day back to school.”

“Well OK, but I’ll blame you if I fall asleep in class,” I relented.

“And not the boring drone of the professor? How good of you,” she replied.

She served me a bun, as well as one for herself, and then placed the remaining three in a zip lock, which she then put in a bag along with her thermos, before returning to her chair to further assault her large breakfast. Have I mentioned my girl has an appetite?

***************************

It was not only my first day of school, but Nancy’s as well, and also my first day back at Mickey D’s. We were just getting ready to close out when Andrea, a new girl working the drive thru called over to me, “Hey Mark, there’s a lady here saying that she’s picking up dinner for you.”

Oh crap, first day back and I’d totally forgotten the routine. “Sure Andrea, two quarter pounders, large fries and a large coke.”

“The lady says to change the large coke to a medium and add a large choc shake and an apple pie.”

This was beyond my stipend, but I’d just put a couple bucks in the till to cover it. “Whatever the lady says,” I smiled.

By the time I closed out and got out to the car Nancy’s burger was gone, as was the pie and most of the fries. Nancy sat behind the wheel, the top two buttons of her blouse undone, sipping her shake, the picture of total contentment.

“How’d your day go?” She asked.

“OK, but getting much better now,” I replied. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too” she nodded between sips. “Let’s get out of here so you can get into something more comfortable, like me.”

Now how can a man argue with that?

*****************************

The next morning I was presented with another incredible breakfast; this time Belgian Waffles with strawberry marmalade and whipped cream, along with hash browns and sausage. The following day it was French Toast and a Spanish Omelet. All week long these incredible filling meals to start off the day; meals which Nancy, as per her MO, consumed huge helpings. 

Starting on the second day she started asking me what I wanted for my birthday, which was a month away on October 8th.

“Just you babe, you’re all I need,” was my standard reply; to which she usually added, “You’re no help.”

On Thursday she was off work well before my last class, so I told her I’d take the bus home and she told me she’d have dinner ready. I walked in the door to be greeted with a glass of chardonnay and the smell of garlic. We sat down to Fettuccini Alfredo with green olives and sausage, Nancy’s serving looking like Mt. Vesuvius atop her plate. 

After dinner we did the pots and pans and Nancy reminded me that the garbage pickup was in the morning. “No problem honey, you go ahead and crack the books while I take the garbage down.”

I carried the bag down to the dumpster opened the lid. I don’t know what compelled me, but before throwing the bag I opened it to look inside. Sitting right on top, next to the empty noodle bag was an empty box of Little Debbie snack cakes. 

&#8216;What the…’ I said to myself, having never even seen them in the apartment before. I picked up the box absently which then revealed the wrappers to a couple of snicker’s bars. This was weird as, although Nancy loved to eat, she had never really gone for candy bars or sweets much. I wondered if the added responsibilities she had at work, combined with going back to night classes was putting too much pressure on her. I’d have to monitor the situation closely and make sure that weekends were down time, so she’d have a chance to relax and recharge her batteries.

I got back upstairs and sat down at the desk kiddy corner to Nancy and started studying. After about an hour I heard Nancy’s chair squeak and then felt her hands on my shoulders and then what could only be her fleshy breasts brushing the back of me neck. 

“Time for a break, don’t you think?” she purred, bending down to nibble at my neck.

“Good idea, but it’ll have to be a short break; I’ve still got about an hour to an hour and a half more reading to do.”

“So you’re saying you want to take me for a quickie?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” I answered, starting to turn towards her.

“Well if you want a quickie, you’ll have to catch me first,” she gushed as she turned and raced out of the room, her robe flowing out behind her.

I gave hot pursuit down the hallway and into the bedroom where she managed to place the bed between us.

“Neener, neener, neener,” she crowed, fingers wiggling out of her ears.

“Why youse,” I said in a gravelly Yosemite Sam voice that made her laugh all the more.

“You’re trapped you know” I said as I began moving towards the foot of the bed.

“That’s what you think,” she sneered as she jumped on top of the bed and started racing back down the hallway, her belly jiggling like Jell-O.

I caught up to her again in the living room, but she circled around the coffee table and headed back down towards the bedroom once again, laughing hysterically. Once back in the bedroom she was trapped again, and I wasn’t going to be fooled by her escape move twice. She was still laughing and breathing hard, her chest heaving as her full breasts swayed and her belly puffed in and out, moving like seaweed in the tide.

When she tried her escape move I too jumped on the bed and cut her off. We tussled for a moment while she tried to get away, but I finally managed to subdue her and throw her down onto the pillows. 

“Help, oh help,” she cried, “it’s the rape of the Sabine”.

Yeah, the Peter Paul Rubens version I told myself as I gazed down at the luscious doughy shape below me, her belly still jiggling. She halfheartedly squirmed as I held her down while extricating myself from my pants. She locked her thick thighs together with a chuckle, forcing me to pry them apart, a task not without it’s own merit, and when I finally managed to insert my torso between those heavenly gates Nancy shrieked “have mercy upon me Centurion, and go gently, for this be my first time, and I might perish to your manliness.”

“Be silent woman” I commanded, “I will have my way with you.”

True to the rape, it was hot, hard and fast; Nancy’s soft body absorbing my thrusts, a lovely cushion for the pushin’.

Later, as we lay side by side, with one hand kneading her belly fat below her belly button while the other ran circles across her right breast, I confessed “your body is amazing; I love every single ounce of you.”

She turned towards me; her left breast cascading over my arm and whispered “to the victor go the spoils. I fear you have spoiled me for good Centurion, for all men shall now pale in comparison. Take me as your house slave and I shall make your every wish come true.”

“You already have, my love,” I smiled.

At this she knocked me upside the head. “Now you’ve gone and spoiled it. That’s not what a Centurion is supposed to say. Oh well, we both need to get back to studying anyway.” 

With that she got up and waddled into the bathroom, her lovely ass and wide hips wiggling.

She exited a short time later, giving me full view of her lovely belly, swaying breasts and thick thighs as she made her way back towards the bed. I rose and we kissed, her body oh so soft as it melted into mine. We broke apart and I headed off towards the bath.

When I returned Nancy was sitting on the pillows, still naked, with a pint of ice cream resting on the shelf of her protruding belly as she absently spooned bite after bite past her luscious lips; looking like a female Buddha who had found the secret of contentment.

Broken from her reverie she pushed the container towards me. 

“Want some?” she asked.

When I shook my head she just smiled and put the container back atop her belly, saying “suit yourself; that much more for me then.”

I dressed and went back into the study room and a short time later Nancy followed, wearing her robe and still nursing the ice cream. By the time we finished studying for the night the container was empty.

****************************

The following week the super-sized, gourmet breakfasts continued. I was going to make mention of it, but to see Nancy so happy cooking for her man, just made me shrug it off. It was actually ok, as I skipped lunch most days anyway, but I wondered if Nancy was doing the same. I received my answer, at least for one day, Tuesday night, when Nancy started raving about a new deli that she and a couple of girls from the office had found, with potato salad and foot long sandwiches to die for.

Ok, so she was getting a huge breakfast, drinking mochas all day that seemed more cream than coffee; was scarfing down substantial lunches and then a filling dinner at least twice a week, and I imagined she was eating something for dinner on the days we did late night McDonalds as well. 

And on Wednesday, when I went to wash out her thermos I found two more snickers bars in her carry bag. So three and sometimes four square meals a day, plus ice cream or milk shakes for desert wasn’t enough for her, she had started snacking on candy bars as well. I surmised that at 184 pounds it took more to fill her, but imagined that she wasn’t going to top out at that weight. Well, she was happy and that was the main thing, not that I was not delighted at her current weight.

*************************

That weekend was one of those last farewell to summer events, the weather pleasantly warm so that it compelled you to spend your time out of doors. Nancy suggested we head for the lake and have a picnic, so after a slightly downsized breakfast we packed a cooler with beverages, put our suits on under our clothes, found beach towels and a large umbrella and headed out. 

On the way we stopped at a KFC for a bucket of spicy crispy, which Nancy insisted we turn into a meal with mashed potatoes and mac and cheese. We were scarcely out of the drive thru when Nancy popped open the top and pulled out a drumstick. She gave me the first bite as I drove, but the rest she hoarded for herself. Then she took out the mashed potatoes and a couple of the biscuits, telling me that they wouldn’t taste good cold. She dipped the biscuits into the potatoes and gravy and while giving me a taste, proceeded to polish off the rest of the container, digging for a third biscuit to scrape the last bit of gravy from the bottom of the container.

I was only slightly taken aback when she opened the container of mac and cheese, said that the cheese was starting to congeal, and began issuing forkfuls into her mouth; again offering me the token bite until the fork hit the bottom of the container. She leaned back and rubbed the side of her thick protruding belly and giggled “um um good.”

When we finally arrived at the lake we set up a base camp, each had a piece of chicken, and then stripped to our suits for a long walk along the sand; stopping every so often to skip rocks across the water or wade thigh deep in the warm water. At one point Nancy decided to get playful and came up from behind me while we were wading and yelling “Bonsai!” climbed up my back and crashed us both down into the water. 

Laughing like fools in love we emerged, drenched like rats, and after a splashing contest began some serious necking, which culminated in the removal of our suits as we bounced off one another, buoyed by the water around us.

Our idyllic tryst had made Nancy hungry again, so we walked back along the shore to the towels where we camped out. We spent the rest of the afternoon soaking in the sun, drinking Snapple and eating chicken as the sun slowly fell towards the tall peaks at the west end of the lake. We snuggled for a time, letting the sky turn from azure to crimson above us and then, with a sigh, broke camp and headed back to the car.

As we drove home Nancy dug into the KFC bucket and brought out a thigh exclaiming “last piece, you get first bite”.

It was the only bite I was going to get. I figured, in all I had eaten two pieces myself, plus bites of another two, while Nancy had devoured the rest, plus the sides. As I was doing the math in my head Nancy purred “ya know what would make today perfect? A pizza from Wild Horse. Doesn’t that sound terrific? I’m thinking their mushroom, olive and sausage with the four cheeses. Yum.”

It sounded good, so I told her so. 

Nancy rubbed her hand together with glee, “Make it a large, no, an extra large and we can save some for lunch tomorrow.”

We parked down the street from Wild Horse (an odd name for a pizza parlor, but the story goes that it was a bar once upon a time and the new owners hadn’t bothered to change the name), walked inside the rustic dining room that looked like something out of the old west, and placed our order. We were told that it would take twenty to twenty-five minutes, so I pulled out a chair, preparing to wait it out, when Nancy grabbed my arm and said she had a better idea.

She pulled me out of the restaurant and across the street, where we walked diagonally across a city park to emerge on the far west corner in front of a Dairy Queen, where Nancy ordered herself a large milk shake. 

The evening was descending upon us, bringing a slight chill to what had been a warm day. Nancy snuggled into me as we sauntered through the park, her soft body so alluring as she happily sipped on her shake. Just before we exited the park she broke from my grasp and turned towards me. 

“You know how much I’m in love with you” she exclaimed, not a question, but an affirmation.

“Show me” I said as my arms encircled her, bringing her close to me.

She tilted her head upwards, mouth slightly open, lips quivering, and there it was, right there in her eyes; unequivocal love. I brought my lips down to meet hers, feeling her cool tongue slide past my lips as the world melted away, my fingers soaking up the softness of her plump, round body; my mind repeating over and over &#8216;there can be no heaven better than this.’

*****************************

Eventually we made our way back across the street, picked up our pizza and headed for home. We were barely through the door before Nancy popped open a Pepsi, flipped open the cardboard top and threw two slices on a plate for her and one for me. Before I’d taken a second bite both of Nancy’s slices were gone. She took a huge slug of Pepsi, then headed back towards the bedroom to, as she put it &#8216;slip into something more comfy’.

She returned to the living room with three more slices on her plate, wearing her long silk bathrobe, belted loosely across her round midsection. She transferred one of the slices to my plate before taking a large bite of her own. Before I knew it she was walking back towards the kitchen, her beautiful wide hips swaying as her butt wobbled beneath her robe, asking me if I wanted another slice. 

When I said no, she asked me if I was sure, saying that there were only three slices left. When I again demurred, she shrugged and said “suit yourself”; piling all three onto her plate, gobbling one down as she walked back into the living room.


What a lovely sight; her thick arms in front of her, holding the plate while bringing the slice towards her luscious lips. The belt on her robe had loosened and dropped lower; following the curving contour of her round belly as it fell towards an overhanging arch over her panties. Her thick, sturdy thighs rubbing together as she moved towards me, the robe parting so that the glorious globes of her breasts were barely concealed.

She sat on the sofa, her wide ass sinking deeply into the cushions, parting her robe even further, allowing me a perfect view of the outward ark of her belly from beneath her breasts, and then the wide crease that spread out from either side of her deep navel.

“Lucky me” I thought absently as Nan continued to make short work of the pizza.

When the last bit of crust had disappeared, Nancy took another hit of soda, sighed and patted her doughy belly, sending shockwave ripples from her breasts to her crotch.

“Never in my wildest dreams”, I thought as I watched her body jiggle. I had no idea anyone could look so absolutely ravishing.

“I ordered your birthday present” Nancy said nonchalantly as she licked a bit of grease from her lips. “Didn’t think I’d be able to get it in time, but miracles happen”.

“So, what are you getting me?” I asked.

“Can’t tell ya, silly, it’d ruin the surprise. You’ll just have to wait.”

I pretended to pout, moaning “but it’s a whole week away.”

“Not quite”, she admonished, “you only have to wait until Friday.”

“But I have classes all day, and you’ve got work” I pouted some more.

“Then you’ll just have to wait until Friday night to open your present. I promise, it’ll be worth the wait &#8211; tell you what; in the meantime, how about you come over here and take this silly robe off me. That ought to help keep your mind off your birthday.”

“What birthday?” I panted as I drew the curtains of her robe aside and cupped an overflowing handful of breast.

************************

The auspicious day arrived without much fanfare. Nancy kissed me sweetly, cooked a nice breakfast and drove me to school, reminding me to take the bus home, as she needed the car after work to pick up a few things.

The day passed without event; although as the afternoon progressed I found it more and more difficult to concentrate, wondering what the big surprise was going to be. 

After my final class, I walked across campus, boarded the bus and headed for home. My feelings of anticipation were rising as I disembarked and walked the final blocks towards our apartment. As I climbed the steps I noticed that the shades were drawn; hmmm, very interesting.

I fumbled with the lock and then opened the door to step into a dim, candlelit room. As my eyes adjusted I could see Nancy, strategically standing in the living room across from the entryway. She was wearing a red satin black widow corset, savagely cinched across her middle, redefining her hourglass figure. The bodice had a push up bra and there was jiggly flesh pouring out all over. The corset collapsed into a V at her groin and her pliant belly, seeking the path of least resistance, leaked out below the bottom of the corset. The garters holding up her fishnet stockings sunk deeply into her pillowy thighs. 

She said not a word, but smiled, turned towards the kitchen, as her ass wiggled, and beckoned me to follow her with a crooked finger.

I followed greedily, salivating over her luscious form. She came to a halt next to the room’s light source; a large chocolate cake. Atop the cake were three of those numbered candles; a two and then two zeros. 

I stood there with my mouth open, my brain screaming out &#8216;she knows’.

As if hearing me perfectly, Nancy playfully stuck her finger into the icing, scraping off a large gob and then licking it off her fingers.

“Happy birthday” she purred.


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## snipermb435 (Jul 13, 2009)

awesome very realistic weight gain sotry, one of the best i have read in a long time, i loved all the discriptions you gave as nancy gained pound and more pounds to her body, wow, such a great story, would you mind if i drew a picture to go with the story( all i need from you is her final measurements like 36GG-45-76 summin like that.


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## Vader7476 (Jul 13, 2009)

I can't wait to read this! Just wanted to chime in and say I adore your work maxout, you're a legend and it's a shame there aren't more writers with your level of talent.


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## hip114ster (Jul 14, 2009)

<delurk>
Excellent description, excellent tension---the best story i've read in ages. Here's hoping for a continuation.

Thanks.
</delurk>


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## TheOwl (Jul 17, 2009)

Is this a new story or one of your existing ones on your site? As when I read it it seemed to be familiar, without me being sure that I had read exactly that story before.

Either way, it was a very good story, like well all of the 40+ stories of yours I have read over the years.


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## tarquin (Jul 18, 2009)

This is just superb. Many, many thanks for a terrific story.


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## maxoutfa (Jul 19, 2009)

snipermb435 said:


> awesome very realistic weight gain sotry, one of the best i have read in a long time, i loved all the discriptions you gave as nancy gained pound and more pounds to her body, wow, such a great story, would you mind if i drew a picture to go with the story( all i need from you is her final measurements like 36GG-45-76 summin like that.



thanks for your glowing review - I'd love to see a good pic of Nancy. When I'm writing I'm often trying to describe the visuals I have in my head, so I think it would be interesting to see a portrayal of Nan as she dips her finger into the celebratory cake. 
I try not to get into specific measurements (as so often in weight gain stories they simply aren't accurate - and more to the point are simply numbers and don't really quantify softness or an overall shape) - but, for what it's worth (and I think that it's mostly a male thing to want to hang numbers on everything) - I am going to take a guess - a 5'5" buxom gal at 200 pounds with what used to be an hourglass figure before her stomach started to swell... 44D, 38, 48. Yummy!


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## maxoutfa (Jul 19, 2009)

TheOwl said:


> Is this a new story or one of your existing ones on your site? As when I read it it seemed to be familiar, without me being sure that I had read exactly that story before.
> 
> Either way, it was a very good story, like well all of the 40+ stories of yours I have read over the years.



an excellent memory, Owl. Yes, this was posted on my site a couple of years ago, but, as Yahoo is shutting down Geocities (and making you pay to transport) I'm slowly moving my stuff over here, where I first began posting (see the many stories in the old stories page); thus giving new readers access and archiving the stories as well.


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## maxoutfa (Jul 19, 2009)

Vader7476 said:


> I can't wait to read this! Just wanted to chime in and say I adore your work maxout, you're a legend and it's a shame there aren't more writers with your level of talent.




thanks for the high praise Vader - by the way, I really enjoyed the pic and accompanying story "Candi's Routine".


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## maxoutfa (Jul 19, 2009)

hip114ster said:


> <delurk>
> Excellent description, excellent tension---the best story i've read in ages. Here's hoping for a continuation.
> 
> Thanks.
> </delurk>



thanks for the high praise. As for a continuation... they lived hapily ever after (Nancy "settled" in at 200 and stayed within a five to ten pound range of that figure).. I know it's all fantasy, but I somehow cannot bring myself to consistently write stories where the weight gain is endless. What's wrong with a beautiful 200 lb sexy, plump goddess? Happens to be close to my own personal ideal of "perfection". Plus I enjoy story arcs that move to a certain point and then leave the "future" to the imagination of the reader.

Thanks again for enjoying the story enough to actually want a continuation. I surely appreciate your taking the time to comment.


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## Vader7476 (Jul 20, 2009)

maxoutfa said:


> thanks for the high praise Vader - by the way, I really enjoyed the pic and accompanying story "Candi's Routine".



Thanks a lot, I really appreciate that!


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