rightstuff
Member
My boyfriend laughed. "I don't have to watch my weight, honey, I'm a guy," he said and stuffed a third burger in his mouth. I looked down at my salad and tried not to look annoyed. Maybe I could talk to him later after the sporting event he dragged me to was over...
...I'm being shaken awake. Huh?
"Hey babe, you seem tired. Don't worry though, what I have to say will only take a minute."
I nod and sit up in the booth. We're at his favorite hamburger place. A place I've only ever been allowed to order a salad at while he stuffs his face because women need to be trim and slim, but he can be a big fat pig. I try to hold back the resentment while I look at him.
"Don't take this the wrong way hon," he starts, sliding his pudgy frame into his side of the booth. "But you've put on a little weight. I don't know if we can continue this relationship if you keep on the way you are."
How perfect! He brings me to a burger joint to talk about losing weight, what a winner!
I smile. "I know just what you mean honey," I say, "And today I'm going to show you what I think of your double standard."
"Huh?" he says, and that's when the first plates hit the table. Two mushroom-swiss-bacon burgers, extra cheese, extra fries, double patties. Just the way I've always wanted to get them. He reaches for a plate and I slap his hand. "Mine," I snarl, and dig in.
I eat like a starved woman, which I am. For months I've been dieting for this idiot pig who thinks he can eat when I can't, and I am ravenous. I eat each burger in a few bites and vacuum up the fries, shoveling them into my mouth with both hands. I barely notice my cute, high-waisted shorts tightening ever so slightly as I eat. By the time I'm done, two more plates hit the table - chicken parmesan with pasta smothered in red sauce. He reaches for a plate again.
"If you want to eat, order your OWN," I hiss and pull the dishes towards me greedily. I cram bite after bite into my face, enjoying the sensation of crispy chicken sliding down my throat and my shorts tightening just a little bit more.
It's almost as if the food adds fat real time, I can feel my legs plumping as I eat. A pitcher of beer arrives at the table. I chug the entire thing and my belly begins to bulge, filling out my shorts. My ass begins to plump. I belch as three 20 oz. sirloins hit the table with overloaded baked potatoes.
"I guess you can have one," I say generously and dig in. Bite after bite flows into my mouth and I grow. My shorts tighten, my butt rounds, pushing out the back of my shorts. My gut surges forward, swelling softly into my lap. The tight shorts restrict its growth so soon I have a little bit of a muffin top under my t-shirt.
I eat more. Chicken fettucine alfredo. Three platters of ribs. My belly distends, rolls over my shorts and my shirt lifts so my belly is peeping out of my top. I polish off four orders of fried chicken. My shirt tightens, my breasts grow, my belly bloats, my thighs spread, my shirt rises. My boyfriend looks disgusted. I grin at him and belch, caressing my bare belly sensuously as I indulge in four pizzas, loaded with cheese and meat.
"Mmm, hic, sooo good," I say. "Sooo good." Our waiter catches me mid sentence as he comes to the table with more of my meal and I realize he is attracted to me. "Mmmm, I'm sooo full," I croon, massaging my belly. "Sooo full and yet I want sooo much more. Mmm, food." And I dig into the platters of chicken wings, mozzarella sticks, and bbq pork sliders he sets down on the table.
My body swells in every direction, my gut distends further and further on my lap until my shorts are so tight they look like bikini bottoms. My newly fattened ass cheeks hang from the bottom of my shorts and my top is barely covering my breasts. My belly is huge, grotesquely distended with the food I've eaten and my legs are thick with fat. My shorts barely fit. I rub my new figure, enjoying my soon to be ex-boyfriend's discomfort immensely. How dare he force me to avoid eating so long while he ate whatever he pleased? I'm so mad I order two extra orders of french fries. Midway through the second order, my shorts rip along my legs, like sausage casings splitting, but my shorts button holds tight.
I lean back, contented, and rub my huge stomach. I burp uncontrollably, I have never been so full. I spot some toast on the table that I missed and lean forward, wincing. My shorts button digs painfully into my massive gut but I don't let it stop me. I grab the plates of toast and place them on my newly grown paunch. In a leisurely fashion, I eat toast off myself, using one hand to stroke my firm, full, belly and the other to cram the bread into my mouth. My shorts, stretched to their limits under a newly grown body, torn up the sides, finally give way-the button pops, clatters to the floor, and my gut surges into my lap. I belch and come hard, moaning with pleasure. "Mmmm, it feels so good to be full and round," I whisper, stroking my body up and down in long slow circles.
My boyfriend looks horrified, and that turns me on more. I've hated the double standard he's held me to, I should get to eat like he does, and finally, now that we are through, I'm getting to.
The waiter comes over and looks me up and down in my contented state. I can tell he wants me, with my belly pushed out to the max and my shirt riding up so high he can see the undersides of my huge breasts. I caress the part of my paunch that broke through my shorts and smile at him.
"Dessert?" he asks.
"Mmmm," I say. "I'm sooo full. If I eat a dessert, I might need some special help," I wink at him knowingly and he disappears.
He returns with two enormous cheesecakes.
"Oh how could I possibly," I start.
"You'll eat them," he says. My boyfriend says nothing, as though he's transfixed by the whole scene. I cut myself a slice of cheesecake and eat it slowly, painfully. The waiter leans in next to me and licks my ear. He sucks my neck. My stomach is stuffed so full and is so massive it scrapes the table. It turns me on and I feel myself get wet in my constricted shorts. Suddenly I am stuffing handful after handful of cheesecake in my face and then the waiter's hand is in my shorts, in and out, in and out as I swell, and swell, and swell in every direction until I hear my shorts rip and my huge ass bursts free. When I finish the cheesecakes, the waiter pulls me to the floor. He inserts a tube in my mouth and suddenly I realize what I am indulging in - vanilla and chocolate frozen yogurt. Greedily I slurp it down on all fours. My stomach hangs and increases by inches every second. Soon I feel my belly distending against the floor. I take the tube out of my mouth for a moment. "I'm such a glutton," I say. "Such a huge, fat, gluttonous pig," and then I shove the tube back in my mouth. As the yogurt slides into my throat, I feel the waiter slide into me from behind.
I suck down frozen yogurt as he fucks and fucks me and my body grows and grows in every direction until I am so overloaded with yogurt and cock that my vagina explodes in pleasure. Moaning I slurp up the last of the yogurt, a huge bellied pig who is sated at last. My paunch rests comfortably on the table. I belch and-
....wake up... Sally, the game's over. Are you ready to head out?
I'm sad to realize everything was just a dream, but happy because I realize what I have to do. Brad isn't the right guy for me. Now isn't the right time to tell him, but I will when we get home. I need a man who will let me be who I am and eat what I want.
...I'm being shaken awake. Huh?
"Hey babe, you seem tired. Don't worry though, what I have to say will only take a minute."
I nod and sit up in the booth. We're at his favorite hamburger place. A place I've only ever been allowed to order a salad at while he stuffs his face because women need to be trim and slim, but he can be a big fat pig. I try to hold back the resentment while I look at him.
"Don't take this the wrong way hon," he starts, sliding his pudgy frame into his side of the booth. "But you've put on a little weight. I don't know if we can continue this relationship if you keep on the way you are."
How perfect! He brings me to a burger joint to talk about losing weight, what a winner!
I smile. "I know just what you mean honey," I say, "And today I'm going to show you what I think of your double standard."
"Huh?" he says, and that's when the first plates hit the table. Two mushroom-swiss-bacon burgers, extra cheese, extra fries, double patties. Just the way I've always wanted to get them. He reaches for a plate and I slap his hand. "Mine," I snarl, and dig in.
I eat like a starved woman, which I am. For months I've been dieting for this idiot pig who thinks he can eat when I can't, and I am ravenous. I eat each burger in a few bites and vacuum up the fries, shoveling them into my mouth with both hands. I barely notice my cute, high-waisted shorts tightening ever so slightly as I eat. By the time I'm done, two more plates hit the table - chicken parmesan with pasta smothered in red sauce. He reaches for a plate again.
"If you want to eat, order your OWN," I hiss and pull the dishes towards me greedily. I cram bite after bite into my face, enjoying the sensation of crispy chicken sliding down my throat and my shorts tightening just a little bit more.
It's almost as if the food adds fat real time, I can feel my legs plumping as I eat. A pitcher of beer arrives at the table. I chug the entire thing and my belly begins to bulge, filling out my shorts. My ass begins to plump. I belch as three 20 oz. sirloins hit the table with overloaded baked potatoes.
"I guess you can have one," I say generously and dig in. Bite after bite flows into my mouth and I grow. My shorts tighten, my butt rounds, pushing out the back of my shorts. My gut surges forward, swelling softly into my lap. The tight shorts restrict its growth so soon I have a little bit of a muffin top under my t-shirt.
I eat more. Chicken fettucine alfredo. Three platters of ribs. My belly distends, rolls over my shorts and my shirt lifts so my belly is peeping out of my top. I polish off four orders of fried chicken. My shirt tightens, my breasts grow, my belly bloats, my thighs spread, my shirt rises. My boyfriend looks disgusted. I grin at him and belch, caressing my bare belly sensuously as I indulge in four pizzas, loaded with cheese and meat.
"Mmm, hic, sooo good," I say. "Sooo good." Our waiter catches me mid sentence as he comes to the table with more of my meal and I realize he is attracted to me. "Mmmm, I'm sooo full," I croon, massaging my belly. "Sooo full and yet I want sooo much more. Mmm, food." And I dig into the platters of chicken wings, mozzarella sticks, and bbq pork sliders he sets down on the table.
My body swells in every direction, my gut distends further and further on my lap until my shorts are so tight they look like bikini bottoms. My newly fattened ass cheeks hang from the bottom of my shorts and my top is barely covering my breasts. My belly is huge, grotesquely distended with the food I've eaten and my legs are thick with fat. My shorts barely fit. I rub my new figure, enjoying my soon to be ex-boyfriend's discomfort immensely. How dare he force me to avoid eating so long while he ate whatever he pleased? I'm so mad I order two extra orders of french fries. Midway through the second order, my shorts rip along my legs, like sausage casings splitting, but my shorts button holds tight.
I lean back, contented, and rub my huge stomach. I burp uncontrollably, I have never been so full. I spot some toast on the table that I missed and lean forward, wincing. My shorts button digs painfully into my massive gut but I don't let it stop me. I grab the plates of toast and place them on my newly grown paunch. In a leisurely fashion, I eat toast off myself, using one hand to stroke my firm, full, belly and the other to cram the bread into my mouth. My shorts, stretched to their limits under a newly grown body, torn up the sides, finally give way-the button pops, clatters to the floor, and my gut surges into my lap. I belch and come hard, moaning with pleasure. "Mmmm, it feels so good to be full and round," I whisper, stroking my body up and down in long slow circles.
My boyfriend looks horrified, and that turns me on more. I've hated the double standard he's held me to, I should get to eat like he does, and finally, now that we are through, I'm getting to.
The waiter comes over and looks me up and down in my contented state. I can tell he wants me, with my belly pushed out to the max and my shirt riding up so high he can see the undersides of my huge breasts. I caress the part of my paunch that broke through my shorts and smile at him.
"Dessert?" he asks.
"Mmmm," I say. "I'm sooo full. If I eat a dessert, I might need some special help," I wink at him knowingly and he disappears.
He returns with two enormous cheesecakes.
"Oh how could I possibly," I start.
"You'll eat them," he says. My boyfriend says nothing, as though he's transfixed by the whole scene. I cut myself a slice of cheesecake and eat it slowly, painfully. The waiter leans in next to me and licks my ear. He sucks my neck. My stomach is stuffed so full and is so massive it scrapes the table. It turns me on and I feel myself get wet in my constricted shorts. Suddenly I am stuffing handful after handful of cheesecake in my face and then the waiter's hand is in my shorts, in and out, in and out as I swell, and swell, and swell in every direction until I hear my shorts rip and my huge ass bursts free. When I finish the cheesecakes, the waiter pulls me to the floor. He inserts a tube in my mouth and suddenly I realize what I am indulging in - vanilla and chocolate frozen yogurt. Greedily I slurp it down on all fours. My stomach hangs and increases by inches every second. Soon I feel my belly distending against the floor. I take the tube out of my mouth for a moment. "I'm such a glutton," I say. "Such a huge, fat, gluttonous pig," and then I shove the tube back in my mouth. As the yogurt slides into my throat, I feel the waiter slide into me from behind.
I suck down frozen yogurt as he fucks and fucks me and my body grows and grows in every direction until I am so overloaded with yogurt and cock that my vagina explodes in pleasure. Moaning I slurp up the last of the yogurt, a huge bellied pig who is sated at last. My paunch rests comfortably on the table. I belch and-
....wake up... Sally, the game's over. Are you ready to head out?
I'm sad to realize everything was just a dream, but happy because I realize what I have to do. Brad isn't the right guy for me. Now isn't the right time to tell him, but I will when we get home. I need a man who will let me be who I am and eat what I want.
