# Lilah (BBW, stuffing, WG)



## Cylon_bob (Nov 7, 2014)

Lilah
*______________*​

I was in Taste of China, waiting on Lilah to show up. I was pretty nervous, mildly terrified, this could go horrendously badly, or it could go moderately badly, either way, I wasn't sure I wanted to be there. Only I didn't really have a choice.

I remember the first time I met Lilah; it was at Freshman orientation. I didn't pay much attention to her right away, I don't think she wanted anybody to notice her. They had us all gathered in a small room on the second floor of the union.

I wanna say they were talking about the code of ethics on campus, or something, I don't know, I was more distracted by the girl doing the presentation. Now that chick, I did not mind looking at for a while! Skinny enough, with tits big and firm enough to give even an ass man like me pause, and all this plus a pretty face. Just a good looking, stereotypical, hot chick is how I remember her, make-up caked on, the whole package. Eye candy for sure, and so sweet! Listening to her going on with that heavy Texan drawl, up there in her close-fitting-but-not-so-much-as-to-give-it-all-away dress, it was enough to give a guy diabetes.

Then, a phone went off.

_'My baby loves me, I'm so happy, happy makes me, a modern girl-'_

I turned my head to the side to see the offending phone. The girl who owned it didn't seem particularly rushed to stop the disturbance, letting the line finish before pressing a few buttons with an embarrassed, blushing, weirdly innocent smile that struck an interesting contrast with the silver nose ring and violently blue neon streaks of hair framing her smooth, angular face. She muttered an apology, and the program went on as planned, only I was paying even less attention to the speaker than ever.

This was Lilah. 

I talked to her after that program was over, struck up a conversation about her ringtone, the look she had going on, and we just kinda hit it off. We hung out the rest of the day, getting pushed around from one meeting to the next, talking while we walked, while we ate. Still remember the way she kept having to pull up her shorts while she walked, wrinkling her cute, little, porcelain face in frustration every time she did it. She was thin back then, almost too skinny for my tastes, with her grey shorts, black tank hanging loosely from her lack of curves.

Which brings us to today, as a matter of fact, because skinny, she is not. Not anymore. She's changed her look since then. Like, she grew her hair out, got a few more piercings, had a simple, but beautiful tat sleeve done, and, uh, put on about fifty pounds. Some of it was over a long stretch of time, about twenty pounds at first, enough to take her from skeleton to a curvy, normal-sized, healthy woman. Then, out of nowhere, she just ballooned.

Which is why I originally set up this specific meeting.

As you've probably guessed by now, we were dating. It was still a new relationship, too, only about two months old, so far as actual courtship goes, and this is when her fattening really picked up. So you can understand how much I was freaking out about what I was about to say, I mean, it's hard to tell anyone they're getting fat, and I'm fairly sure men have died in similar circumstances, but I couldn't not say anything. For a lot of reasons, but bottom line, this was legitimately me being worried about her, as both a friend and a lover.

She came in through the door moving quickly, as she always was, smiling big, wearing a tight black dress that I would hold as evidence that just because black is a slimming color doesn't mean you can't look fat as hell when you wear it. From the chest up, she was thin and beautiful, but moving a bit south, just below the boob line, things widened out pretty dramatically. She waved at me, and headed straight for me, not actually stopping to say much, just pausing just long enough to plant a peck on my cheek and excuse herself, words pouring out in the space of one quick breath, Be right back, babe; we're getting the buffet, yeah? I'll get myself some food!

I kind of sat there for a few seconds, flapping my jaw like a fish out of water, trying to figure out how exactly I tell her this without being horribly murdered and disposed of neatly in a box by the reservoir. I looked over my shoulder to see where she was. She was leaning over the desserts table, reaching her short arms as far as she could to reach the donut holes at the back of the display, and it was not a flattering pose to be in. The bottom two inches of her fat bum were clearly visible, slightly dimpled, flabby, and hanging down beneath the bottom hem of that poor, black dress. She came back with a handful of fried, sugary dough balls, and piled them onto her already overloaded dessert plate with one hand, using the other to cover her indecency. She gathered all her plates and walked towards me like a waiter, plates up and down both arms, enough food for a family of four, and all this, just for her greedy, growing gut.

This discussion had to be had.

I smiled when she laid all the food on the table, hoping, Aww! You got me food, too!

She snorted, shot me a condescending smirk, mimicking my intonation, Aww! No, I didn't!

I looked out at what all she'd gotten for herself, and that took me a second. Even if I'd wanted to get a plate, I wouldn't have had anywhere to put it, that's how much my girlfriend was planning to eat, You didn't? I asked, slightly terrified but pushing on anyway, All this is for you alone?

Her mouth was already full of chocolate pudding, but after a second, she swallowed and answered me, with a shrug, Yeah. Missed breakfast this morning. I said nothing, but the fact is, breakfast or not, I ate dinner with her the night before, and I'm not even exaggerating when I say she should technically _still_ be uncomfortably full from that gorge. She kept going, apparently oblivious to both the concern on my face and visibly straining seams of her dress, Might need to get seconds, too. You know me! She popped a forkful of sweet and sour pork into her mouth and smiled, happily.

I laughed nervously, Ha, yeah... I looked her over. The table blocked my view of her problem areas, but you could tell, she was definitely getting into the early stages of chubby from the waist up. Like, her ass had hit critical mass, and her bottom-heavy genetics were being overwhelmed by the sheer intake of calories Lilah was maintaining, so the fatness was filling out elsewhere. Should you, though? I asked nervously, trailing off a little at the end.

Hmmph? Lilah asked through a mouthful of roast pork.

I took a deep breath, Get seconds? Do you really need all of this, either? I mean, you've got two whole plates of _just_ desserts here, and... I stopped when I noticed she'd stopped shovelling food down her throat. She was staring at me now. W-what?

You wanna do this?

I, uh, maybe? I stammered, What is it, uh, do what, exactly?

Talk about how... she paused, and it looked like she was trying to remember an exact phrasing, Yeah, how I 'eat like a starving bear on appetite enhancers, sit on my fat ass 24-7, and watch passively as my ass blows up like a fucking party balloon.'

I was so confused, I... Jus- what?

She took a deep breath, her jaw was tight, and she seemed to be struggling to keep herself under control, Let me get a clear grip on this. You brought me to a chinese buffet, let me get my food, and now you're going to tell me how... her breathing sped up, and I could swear, I saw some tears starting to form in the edges of her eyes, How I'm a disgusting fatassed whore who needs some serious fucking weight watchers and a personal trainer and how, unless I get my goddamn gluttony under some serious control, I'm gonna end up a lonely little whale whose only friends are fucking Ben and Jerry? I wasn't sure if she was about to stand up and storm out, or break down into hysterical tears, it could go either way, that's the kind of emotional rollercoaster I could feel moving around me. She did neither. She just sat there, staring at me, waiting for my response.

Which was pretty terrible, Wha- no! I leaned in closer, I mean, yes, but no!

She sighed heavily and looked off, not to anywhere specific, just away from me, Hmmph. she grunted, Explain.

I mean, you've gained weight, yes, but it's not that much! I lied through my teeth.

She knew I was full of shit, of course, rolling her eyes, Yeah, thirty pounds in two months, but whatever, it's spread out over fucking five foot two inches, yes, my towering height hides my minor gain.

Okay, so it's a lot, but it looks good on you! Was my next attempt to smooth things over. 

Oh yeah, because this, she gestured to the soft looking belly hanging over her thighs, pooching out in front of her more than a little, Is the epitome of fucking sex appeal! Pregnant piggies, that's the future of the porn industry!

Why are you being like this? I finally asked.

You're the one who brought me to a fucking _restaurant_ to tell me I eat too damn much.

I kind of lost my cool then, No, I fucking didn't!" I shouted, "This was your idea, Li! I said your apartment, you demanded Chinese! Some faces turned to look at us, and I pulled myself together, calmed my tone. This was supposed to be me being concerned, not me telling her how to live, Look. Lilah. I don't know what you think this is, but I am not breaking up with you. I fucking love you, you understand? You're fucking beautiful, and I'm just... I'm worried about you.

Lilah kind of slumped in her chair, and then she finally looked me in the face again, apologizing, I'm sorry... she wiped her face with a napkin, That just... brought back some memories...

You don't have to talk about it.

She looked up, smiling weakly, Thanks... She picked up a chicken leg and ripped off a hunk of meat, smiling slyly, So... you love me, then?


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## Cylon_bob (Nov 7, 2014)

Does whiplash have to be a physical thing, or can it apply to emotions, too? Because yeah.

Uh, yeah. I really, honestly, think I love you.

She smirked at me, licking her fingers clean and moving to the next plate of food, And you're not just saying that to get me to get me in the sack?

Do I need to?

Lilah leaned back in her chair in mock surprise, and I tried to avoid staring at her bloated belly, Make a girl feel _cheap_, talk about her like that!

I smirked, I seem to recall you ambushing me on our first date, literally before the date even began, by luring me into your bedroom to 'help you zip up.'

Sometimes a girl can't reach the zipper!

You were naked.

Lilah shrugged, Cutting out the middle man. None of that 'oh, dear mister, look at me, I'm not quite naked, but now you can get an idea of what's in store for you' bullshit. Not my style. You know that. I had to give her that, Lilah never was one for bothering to deal with the expectations of society. She grinned, Besides, never heard _you_ complaining!

I laughed, and I didn't exactly think about what I was saying, Well, who am I to refuse the offer? It's like you with ice cream, I'm always up to fuck, you're always up for-- I didn't finish that sentence, but I finished enough of it that Lilah knew. 

And she didn't seem as upset by it as I'd thought. I expected silence, but she finished the simile and added more, --a pint of rocky road, yeah, exactly! she chuckled, Any food, actually, I'm not so choosy! You want fuck, I want pho, ha! there was a silence for a good few minutes after that joke, just me trying to process the contradictions, and her eating plates at record-breaking speed. It lasted until the food was gone, actually, until Lilah tossed her fork onto the plate with a clatter and leaned back in her seat, moving her hands to the swollen globe of her stomach, groaning with combined relief and satisfaction, and maybe a hint of something more primal. She sat like that for a few seconds, then cocked her head to the side, looking down her nose at me, So what are you thinking? Cold Stone or Baskin-Robbins?

Huh?

_Dessert_. Where were you thinking? Cold Stone or Baskin Robbins? I guess Cheesecake Factory would be fine, but we were talking about ice cream, so I'm just craving a sundae.

I think my jaw literally dropped, Are you serious right now? I asked, I don't even-- what the-- Fuckin', just tell me what the fuck is happening here?

She almost did just tell me then, but something held her back, and she fell back into her chair, letting her fingers rest lightly on the belly she had popping out proudly in front of her, Uh, know what? I changed my mind about ice cream. Take me to Cheesecake Factory, let me order my food, and I'll tell you everything.

Everything?

Lilah put her hand over her heart, Promise.

I paid, had to help my helplessly over-full girlfriend to her feet, walk with her to her car, which thank god, wasn't very far, which was good for me because let's face it, the girl was starting to get heavy, but possibly disastrous for her figure. Then again, she'd just eaten an ungodly amount of calorie dense Asian food, and was demanding I take her to one of the least healthy chain restaurants in the nation so she could top her night off with yet another mountain of empty calories. The fact she was only three spaces from the door, yeah, not the best indicator that she'd wake up in the morning five pounds fatter, minimum.

The Cheesecake Factory wasn't a long drive away, which means of course, that, even though I personally had never been, it's almost definitely been a pretty big contributor to my girlfriend's, uh, let's call it a plumpening. What that means is that, by the time we had both got there, in our separate cars, Lilah was nowhere closer to digested enough to walk, so I had to help her out of her car, which was, once again, as close as it could possibly fricking be, to the entrance.

We got seated, and Lilah wasted no time. She signalled to the nearest waitress, a taller brunette with a thick, gelatinous belly that rippled with every step, who I'd have assumed was pregnant if not for the jiggle factor, Sherry! Hey, chick, damn, looking good, how much have you lost? Nice! Okay, so-- Oh, no, I couldn't handle the usual right now, so could you get me a.... Reese's peanut butter chocolate cheesecake, and you know what, I do want that ice cream, get me a hot fudge sundae, too, and Sherry? Tell them not to go easy on the fudge, yeah?

It was only after Sherry bounced along that she looked to me, an excited gleam in her eyes, and I just stared. You... You have a usual here? 

Lilah just waved that away, Yeah, yeah, I couldn't _possibly_ eat that on this full a stomach though, so it's whatever." She shifted her weight with a grimace, continuing, "So this whole thing. What it's about.

Yeah?

She was about to tell me I think, but we were interrupted by Sherry coming back and setting the ice cream sundae onto the table. Just like that, Lilah was in a different place, not answering the question. She was smiling, excited, grabbing at the spoon, Thanks, Sher, this looks awesome! 

She lost herself in the sundae, and let me just say, that full day's worth of calories lasted mere minutes before the only evidence of its ever existing was the fact that my girlfriend was that much heavier and, apparently, in that much more discomfort. There was going to be a wait, I knew, before the cheesecake was ready, so I wanted to get this big confession, whatever it was, done before Lilah lapsed into a gluttonous food coma, so I didn't waste a second, the instand she swallowed that last spoonful of vanilla, I asked, What the actual fuck is even happening right now?

Lilah burped loudly, _phew_! Oomph, that was good! she said, patting the swollen dome of her belly, and her face getting serious, Okay, so, here's the thing. She began, You love me, right? Even though I'm getting fat?

I was getting tired of these games, so I kept my answer short, Yes.

Lilah shifted her globular gut to the side nervous, and I could hear the sloshing and digesting, Well... she began, and I wanted to scream at her to spit it out, What if... What if I didn't stop? What if I just kept getting fatter?

I would-- Wait, what?

Another burp, a sigh of satisfied relief, Well, since we've been dating, I've pained thirty pounds. And you still love me, yes?

More than ever.

What about thirty pounds from now? What about thirty pounds after that?

I started putting everything together, Are you... planning on that?

Lilah smiled, nervous, an unsure chuckle, I just thought... I've been super-skinny, might as well try supersize...

I winced, the 'super-skinny' label, that came before I knew her, and she doesn't like talking about that. In the moment, though, I looked over at her, and I saw my girlfriend, wide-eyed and terrified that a part of her world was about to end, a smear of chocolate on her porcelain cheek, and an extra foot or so of waistline. 

I watched her as she took comfort from the conversation by losing herself in belly play, concentrating on massaging the semi-solid combination of food and fat, and being at ease with herself because of it, not despite it. The quiet was awkward, but she wasn't paying attention to it. She was tracing the shape of her body, delighting in the extra curves her gain had furnished her with, poking at the gelatin of her huge, thunderous thighs, sinking her fingertips into her flab, and through all of this, I could tell she was genuinely enjoying these thirty pounds.

Lilah." I said after a few seconds, "I love you. It's not about how fat you are, though for the record, judging by what's happening so far, you're going to be the most fuckable fatty the world has ever seen, it's about you, and I want you to be happy. Just as long as you're happy, I'm okay with whatever you do.

Sherry came by with the cheesecake, but she must have recognized this was a moment between us, because she didn't say anything. Lilah looked at me intensely, searching my face to gauge my honesty. Then, she cocked her head, clarifying, You do understand, I'm not talking like, mid-20 pants size sort of fatness. Ass like mine, I'm gonna be size 30 jeans before I hit 200, and 200 is a starting point, I want to get massive. I want to buy two seats on an airplane, and then get thrown off because my ass is taking up both of them and my massive thunder thighs are still blocking the walkway, not to mention, I ate all the goddamn peanuts they had for the flight. 

I chuckled, Let's be real, the peanuts thing, you could do that already.

She chuckled, Yeah, probably. She still looked unsure, but then she saw the cheesecake, and she stared at it for a second, then her eyes slowly widened, and a devious half-smile curled at the corners of her lips. She looked me in the eyes, gestured with one hand to the untouched plate, and commanded, Feed me.

What?

It's the only way I know you're really okay with this. You do it to me." she leaned back, and rested her hands on the protruding sphere of her stomach, groaning with discomfort as she moved, "Right now, I'm full, I don't even fucking _want_ this goddamn mound of empty fucking calories, and I need you to prove to me you're okay with this.

I...

She reached across the table, grabbed my hand, Hey. There's room enough on this side of the table, if we sit tight. Help me out, honey, help me make it so I'm too fat for the booth. Help me outgrow this place, babe, just get your butt over here, and take this cake, and force me to eat it. She smiled, seductively, patting the seat next to her.

I moved over, and played along with her games. I first pinched her side, at a juicy roll of fat the dress was kind enough to outline for me, getting no enjoyment from it. I jiggled it around, and she seemed to like that, and so I kept going. Finally, I stopped playing with Lilah's lardy body, and turned my attention to the cheesecake. I ignored the fork, grabbing at a chunk of cake, and teasing Lilah with it, waving it in front of her eyes, letting the smell get to her. You want it? 

Her answer was by grabbing at it, but I jabbed at hard at her soft, forgiving sides, painfully hard, Uh uh. I said, You want me to feed you, you let me do the feeding."

I put my hand, with the cake, in front of her, and she began eating, that was about when it happened, I think. That's when I started getting into it.

Something about her moans, pleasurable at first, becoming more and more pained as she kept going, and always erotic, something about the way her tongue worked, dipping between my fingers, searching out every last calorie, or maybe it was the way she was snuggled against me, her soft upper body pressed close against mine, her warm, heavy thighs taking up every extra inch of space, I don't know. Whatever it was specifically, it was working. By the end of the cake, I was on board entirely. 
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


The thing is though, it's still her thing. It's Lilah's fetish, not mine. I've learned the names for everything, she's the feedee, but I'm still not really a feeder. I'm just the loving boyfriend who helps make it all possible, and, on occasion, forces my gorgeous, completely unapologetic, fatass of a girlfriend to eat her weight in deep-fried twinkies. 

When she wants me to, anyway, she's in control. She gets her way in basically everything, I'm not ashamed to admit it, she's the one who wears the pants in the relationship. I'm just learning to love the fact that those pants are currently a very, very tight size 32W.


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## Benny Mon (Nov 8, 2014)

Fantastic story. Thanks a lot!


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## lesserhawk (Nov 9, 2014)

This is wonderful.


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## loveshandles (Nov 24, 2014)

awesome story


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## altoplayer (Nov 28, 2014)

The only thing wrong with this story is the last line. A 32 waist means the waist is 32 inches around, which is not big. That's a size for an average man. If you meant size 32, that's completely different.


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## Cylon_bob (Dec 1, 2014)

altoplayer said:


> The only thing wrong with this story is the last line. A 32 waist means the waist is 32 inches around, which is not big. That's a size for an average man. If you meant size 32, that's completely different.



You're unaware of womans' sizing. 

32 means her hips are more than 60" around, making her ass further around than Lilah is tall. The W stands for 'wide,' not 'waist, and is applied to the plus sizes, or so my research tells me.

I'm glad you liked it, otherwise, though!


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