BBW(Mult)/BHM Eating, Romance, ~MWG - A growing gordita coaches a feedee and his feeder
“Maria, I’ll have the carnitas burrito platter and three chorizo tacos, and two Mexican cokes”
“Here or to go?”
“Here, please.”
“$16 is your total”, said the counter girl. She was a delicious little empanada alright. 5’2” at the most, a beautiful, small face on a small frame that had been engulfed in layer upon layer of soft pillowy fat, to the point where she smiled up at me from within the valley created by cleavage and fat shoulders as she rested her large breasts on the counter and made change of my twenty dollar bill.
“Bueno. I’ll bring it to your table when it’s ready.”
I took a seat at the side of the counter where I could see her bustle about as I waited for my food. Short as she was, she was constantly up and down on her toes reaching for takeout containers, and she jiggled and bounced with each movement. Making it the more comical, her top was about fifty pounds too short it seemed, bunching up under her arms and beneath her bosom as she moved so that her belly, from her navel to the apron of fat hanging to her mid-thigh, kept popping out, causing her to stop what she was doing and attempt to cover up.
Finally she put on an actual shop apron that had been hanging on a hook nearby, which gave her a modicum of cover. The string, that she tied behind her, quickly settling into the crease between thick love handles and very well padded hips.
When the apron ended the show, I looked about at the other patrons. To my right, two rows away, a pair of women sat with a pile of nachos between them. From the looks of it, one of them, the chunkier of the two, was doing the most damage to the pile, and being egged on by her companion. She was soft—not plump, but curvy, with a pretty face and blonde hair.
“You’d better hurry— our entrees will be out before you know it” I heard her say to her friend, whose response, with her mouth full, was lost in translation.
With that, the counter girl brought out my food. “Excuse me mister, but did I get it right—you wanted the carnitas burrito platter AND three tacos? For you alone? That is a lot of food, and today is taco Tuesday- you get a fourth taco free.”
“That’s right, it’s for me” I saw the blonde look our way “I’m a big eater”.
The counter girl batted her eyelashes, putting down the food
“Dios mio, it’s not for me to say” she said, “but if you eat like that every day, it will take its toll on you quickly—I know first-hand” running her hands across the apron covering her big belly, lifting it up and out, and letting it drop and bounce.
I smiled at her “Who could blame you? Surrounded by such wonderful smells as you work so hard, you must work up an appetite.”
I patted my own stomach, which conveniently growled “and appetites cannot be denied”.
“True, but when encouraged, appetites grow—take me for example. When I started here two years ago, I weighed 111 pounds. Just being around food and tasting everything, I gained fifty pounds the first two months. Manny the owner, said “you are such a good worker, I need three of you” and with that, he doubled my salary and let me eat whatever I wished; I added another fifty just as quickly.
"Manny gave me another raise; shortly thereafter we started dating, and he started making an extra pan of flan for me every day; by three months ago, I weighed as much as three of who I was when I started working, and now I’m another half again, and Manny and I are engaged. It’s all been wonderful, but my hunger is constant now, I can’t stop eating.” She readjusted her belly, causing her whole body to ripple.
Just talking to this little plumpette was getting me aroused, even as I heard that her acreage had already been bought and paid for
“That’s wonderful. Congratulations. You see, men like meat on the bones.” I offered.
“Some women do too. Eat like you are today, and one will seek you out” she said over her shoulder, as she walked away, her tremendous ass shaking as she moved one fat thigh around the other. Manny certainly had sculpted a beauty.
I looked down at my own gut. I poked it, and gave it a squeeze. Actually, it was starting to get bigger lately—220 as of a few days ago. Oh well. Like she said, some women like this, I thought. And I dug into the small mountain of Mexican food.
I looked up from my daze as Maria brought the entrees to the two women I’d spied earlier. The chubbier one had indeed finished the nachos, and was looking a little glassy eyed and squirmed in her seat as the huge enchilada platter was placed before her; her skinnier friend, on the other hand, was gesturing to me as she spoke to Maria, and gave me a quick glance and a coy smile. I went back to eating, once again piqued.
After I’d plowed through my tacos and had made a big dent in the carnitas burrito platter, Maria came to my table, carrying a large order of three meat nachos, with what looked like extra cheese.
“You see what I mean?” she said, putting the order down in front of me “these are from your new fan over there”.
“You’re kidding.”
“No, no. She saw me talking to you and heard a bit of what we were saying, so she said to tell you that she was one of those that liked some meat, so she thought she’d send some over.”
I looked over, and the blond gave me a cute little wave and a sly smile. From the looks of it, her friend was in a stupor, having consumed as much as I had to this point, and the blonde had put half of her own entrée on her plate too. I waved back, nodded a thank you, and with that the blonde practically jumped from her seat and came over to my table. Maria raised her eyebrows and waddled away.
“Hi. I’m Laura. I couldn’t help overhearing that you were a man with an appetite. I love men with appetites. Could I join you?”
“Sure, have a seat—but what about your friend?”
“Sarah? She’s still got her work cut out for her over there, she won’t mind.”
“My name is Bob, pleased to meet you.”
“How’s your food Bob? I saw what Maria brought you, you’re a big eater.”
“So you decided to up the ante by sending over a family-sized tray of nachos. I say that’s unusual.”
“Like I said, I like a man that can eat, and I wanted to see whether you’d measure up.”
“I’m going to try.” Boy was she pretty. Just a little chubby, a slight love-handle and belly pooch under large breasts when she sat down and crossed her long legs “would you like some of my nachos? From the looks of it, Sarah is eating most of your dinner.”
“I’m good for now, thanks. Besides, this is all about you.” She moved my empty platter aside, and pushed the nachos in front of me.
“What exactly does that mean?”
“Let’s cut to the chase-Bob, I’m what one might call a feeder—I like watching people eat, enjoy watching them gain weight as I subtly encourage them to eat. At work, I make sure that every birthday in the office is celebrated, that every meeting has donuts, keep lots of candy around my desk. I’ve several girlfriends there that are each three or four sizes larger thanks to me— I take them out to lunch, buy them sugary cream filled coffee drinks—any calorie laden landmine that presents itself. I’ve been at it a long time.
"Sarah over there is a friend from college: we were roommates for three years, during which time I helped her gain almost fifty pounds. She lost most of it after graduation three years ago. She’s in town for a few days, and I slipped into my old habits, and she fell right in, eating everything I’ve put in front of her the last three days, she’ll go home with her buttons snapped along with her willpower.
"When other friends drop by, they leave with their pants tighter, and if they stay long enough, they go in a new, bigger outfit to remember their visit. But they’re all just hobbies—I’m looking for a man that loves his food, will relish the care and affection I’ll lovingly apply, and isn’t afraid of the effect my proclivities might have on him. Bob—are you that guy?”
I sat for a moment, wordlessly devouring her monologue along with the plate of nachos before me. You can’t tell, dear reader, but I’d just eaten a mountain of food, and I was stretched full-up as I picked up the last chip, gesturing with it, about to speak.
At that moment, Maria walked up, carrying six servings of flan.
“I heard your speech, Miss. Maybe you both should have some dessert while he thinks over your offer—you especially Miss—real men like meat on the bone.”
“That’s right” I said “will you ‘relish the care and affection’ that I’ll lovingly reciprocate? Then, Laura my dear, we might just hit it off.”
“Me? Oh I don’t know” she blushed “I mean, I’m too fat already!”
She grabbed the aforementioned negligible love handle quickly, distastefully, and threw her hands up defensively.
“Silly, skinny girl” Maria chimed in “whoever put that idea in your head should be flayed.
"Men like this," she declared, again lifting her belly up and out for a dramatic effect.
“Thanks Maria, but I can handle this” I said “so let me get this straight— you love fat, adore it, yet you’ve denied yourself the indulgence that brings it into being; you’re a feeder, you naughty girl, because you like to see what mischief you can cause those around you and then look saintly thin when you stand next to your unwitting targets.”
I took a plate of the flan, held it up to my mouth, and slurped it up like a jello-shot, and then proceeded to shoot three more rapid-fire. “Tell you what- I’ll show you the pleasure that comes with satisfying your appetites—you can impose your fetish on me if you’ll agree to slowly allow your guilty pleasure to fill you out, just a bit, and see whether you like it. But to seal the deal, those last two flans are yours.”
With that, I picked up a napkin, wiped my mouth, pushed back my chair, leaned back and unbuttoned my jeans.
It was all she could take. She picked up the first flan, shot it down like a pro, picked up the other, did the same, gagging a little. “Okay, I’m game. Let’s get out of here.”
“What about Sarah?”
“She drove, and she has a key to my place.”
I got up. Man I was swollen, my center of gravity shifted for the massive meal that now hung two inches out over my unbuttoned pants. You know you’ve eaten a lot when you feel your stomach stretching out sideways. I un-tucked my shirt to allow some more room to breathe, put my arm around Laura, waved goodbye to Maria, and we sauntered out, Laura rubbing my belly as we went, giddy as a schoolgirl.
“We should stop somewhere and get some supplies” she said.
“What did you have in mind?”
“I need baking supplies, groceries, and some snacks to hold you over until I’ve fixed something proper.”
“I did just eat dinner, and a big one at that.”
“Silly boy, that was just the start, in a week, that load will seem like an appetizer.”
So we stopped at a supermarket. We chatted as she emptied the bakery department into our cart, stocked up on dry goods, dairy, frozen foods, meat, poultry, deli, pasta, bread, soda, you name it. Turns out that Laura was a hotel major at that college she and Sarah attended, with a—jackpot—minor in culinary arts! And her office job was actually as an event planner for a museum, which meant that she was constantly reviewing menus, going to tastings—her life actually revolves around tasty, delectable amuses bouches.
Turns out she’s funny, too, but had altogether a terrible body image for someone who, I tell you, turned every head as we walked the aisles, with her hands straying to my swollen gut every chance she got.
I paid and loaded the car. Total time about two hours, and strangely, I was already getting hungry, so I dialed for two pizzas that we picked up on the way back.
We got to my house and unloaded the perishables before we settled on the couch, the pizzas before us on the coffee table.
“Okay, let’s get comfortable. Let’s get naked” I said, pulling my polo over my head, kicking off my jeans. She demurred.
“Come now, what did you picture would happen? Let’s see the goods” I said. Bashfully, she unbuttoned her top and took off her bra, revealing fantastic breasts-c cups definitely-defying gravity in the airspace above a little roll of fat that formed as she pulled off her skirt. In just her panties, the little roll on her belly folded over the front edge of the elastic and retreated back before swelling again just a little at her side. Her thighs were long, though soft, and her ass full though not large. Perfect place to start, I thought.
“I need to start running” she said, looking down.
I grabbed her chin gently, and said “the only running you’ll be doing is around the kitchen, getting food for the two of us”
“Well, for you maybe”
“Okay, I’m not going there now. Feed me pizza.”
And she did. By midnight, some three hours later, I’d outdone myself, eating one slice shy of 1½ pies. All along the way, I’d picked off pieces of the meat lover’s toppings, meatball, sausage, pepperoni and bacon, feeding them to her, and making her eat two slices of her own. Greasy with pizza, my stomach stretched to a size never before witnessed, and Laura’s pouting out after having consumed two desserts and for her an unusually large dinner, we started groping one another.
“Do you have a scale?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I want to see where you’re starting from”
Uggh. Fetishes.
“Okay, let’s go in the bedroom” nice recovery, I thought.
We went in, I stepped up. 226. Wow—about five pounds more than last time I’d check two weeks ago.
“I’m going to have you at 240 by the end of the month”
“14 pounds? In two weeks? Hmmm. That’s a lot, no?”
“Oh it’ll be fun” she said teasing me, reaching for my balls and giving them a squeeze.
I spun her around, squeezed her breasts, dropped one hand and caressed her belly.
“Your turn nextm” I whispered.
She reluctantly stepped on the scale. “129” she said with dismay in her voice.
“Don’t worry, your target for our next weigh-in is just 133”
I kissed her then and squeezed her bottom. She grabbed and squeezed my love handles. We climbed into bed, and began our groping again. She hopped out of bed for a minute and came back in covered in whipped cream. I licked it all off, she reapplied where it counted and I licked that off, too, making her groan in delight. Taking the can from her I filled my belly button and ran a thick trail down to the tip of my cock. She gobbled up those calories without hestitation. Eventually, she ended up on top, riding me to completion as she prodded and pinched my belly, while I marveled at her large breasts and converted all that food into fat.
And so it went for several weeks. She stuffed me to capacity before she left for work every morning, and put me to sleep engorged every night. After two months, I’d already hit 280. Working from home as I did, she began to “assign” me meals, facetiming me from work to watch me eat them, and in that third month I hit 313.
She really was an excellent feeder; during that whole time I never ate the same meal twice. My rolls had rolls of their own. I was fat, and she hadn’t any intention of letting up.
One day, I went out for some work errands, and found myself near the tacqueria where we’d met. My stomach growled, so I went in. There was Maria—she had to have put on another fifty pounds if she’d gained an ounce. Her belly hung to her knees, and standing on a small crate back some three feet from the counter she was leaning over to perch her enormous breasts across the counter. She could hardly reach the cash register around them, or see over them for that matter. Her ass rested against the shelf behind her, she nearly filled the entire space behind the counter.
“Maria, I’ll have the carnitas burrito platter and three chorizo tacos, and two Mexican cokes”
“Here or to go?”
“Here, please.”
“$16 is your total”.
I took a seat at the side of the counter where I could see her bustle about as I waited for my food. She moved more slowly now, pausing every thirty seconds for more flan, that she ate from a huge tray with a serving spoon.
When my food was ready she shuffled over, her fat undulating like a rough sea, finally looking at my face. A glimmer of recognition and then she exploded, dropping my food on the table and tackling me with a huge bosomy hug.
“Dios MIO! Tu es mucho Gordo! Gordo! What did I tell you! Appetites grow, no! Eat eat gordo, you look famished! I’ll join you.” And she shuffled over to get her flan and returned, breathing heavy from the exertion.
She looked me up and down, “you gained what, a hundred pounds? Bueno! I myself am on my way to being five little Marias. But I think you had two appetites, si? Yes, two appetites, that’s right. And one is still starving—that little flacca you left with, I saw her the other day too—if you are this big, she’s not keeping up her end of the bargain.
"Maybe she's a little softer, but just a poco, nothing like this” she grabbed my belly with both hands, lifting it and dropping it with her signature bounce “her appetite grows too, like my Manny, and because of them, soon neither of us will fit through the door. Don’t worry, we deliver, but you should have company by now—how can you be satisfied as a man with that stick when all this makes you like a rock down here?”
She groped under my belly finding my, well, truly aroused apparatus.
She was right. In the three months, I’d barely managed to get Laura to put on twenty pounds. She was 146 last week, the last time she’d consented to being weighed. As my physical appetite had soared, she was better able to distract me from enforcing her end of the bargain, and I’d become complacent. It was true, I wasn’t really satisfied, disappointed as I waited every day for her to jump on top of me and have those breasts of hers rest on my belly-- while I was growing up and out, her mams weren’t keeping pace, and neither was the rest of her. At the pace we were going, I’d be 400 pounds before she even hit size 14.
“Maria, what should I do? You're right—I’m totally thrilled on one hand, but on the other…”
“Life is like scales, they should balance. You must make her want to catch up.”
“How?"
“Whisper to her”
“What?”
“Just whisper to her. While she sleeps. Softly tell her that she is too skinny, suggest that she should worry about losing you to someone like me. Take her hands and rub them on her body, telling her how much happier she’ll be with a soft belly, a big bum, fat legs, fat tits. Whisper that she should feel guilty for not keeping up her bargain. Tell her that deep down she’s hungry, and must feed her appetite with herself instead of others."
"You think that will work?"
"Si. Definitely. You’ll see--it will take a week or two, but she’ll start to eat, and by the end of the month, she’ll be unstoppable.”
End of Part 1- stay tuned...
(Contiued in post 7 of this thread)
Appetites Grow
by Upto236
by Upto236
“Maria, I’ll have the carnitas burrito platter and three chorizo tacos, and two Mexican cokes”
“Here or to go?”
“Here, please.”
“$16 is your total”, said the counter girl. She was a delicious little empanada alright. 5’2” at the most, a beautiful, small face on a small frame that had been engulfed in layer upon layer of soft pillowy fat, to the point where she smiled up at me from within the valley created by cleavage and fat shoulders as she rested her large breasts on the counter and made change of my twenty dollar bill.
“Bueno. I’ll bring it to your table when it’s ready.”
I took a seat at the side of the counter where I could see her bustle about as I waited for my food. Short as she was, she was constantly up and down on her toes reaching for takeout containers, and she jiggled and bounced with each movement. Making it the more comical, her top was about fifty pounds too short it seemed, bunching up under her arms and beneath her bosom as she moved so that her belly, from her navel to the apron of fat hanging to her mid-thigh, kept popping out, causing her to stop what she was doing and attempt to cover up.
Finally she put on an actual shop apron that had been hanging on a hook nearby, which gave her a modicum of cover. The string, that she tied behind her, quickly settling into the crease between thick love handles and very well padded hips.
When the apron ended the show, I looked about at the other patrons. To my right, two rows away, a pair of women sat with a pile of nachos between them. From the looks of it, one of them, the chunkier of the two, was doing the most damage to the pile, and being egged on by her companion. She was soft—not plump, but curvy, with a pretty face and blonde hair.
“You’d better hurry— our entrees will be out before you know it” I heard her say to her friend, whose response, with her mouth full, was lost in translation.
With that, the counter girl brought out my food. “Excuse me mister, but did I get it right—you wanted the carnitas burrito platter AND three tacos? For you alone? That is a lot of food, and today is taco Tuesday- you get a fourth taco free.”
“That’s right, it’s for me” I saw the blonde look our way “I’m a big eater”.
The counter girl batted her eyelashes, putting down the food
“Dios mio, it’s not for me to say” she said, “but if you eat like that every day, it will take its toll on you quickly—I know first-hand” running her hands across the apron covering her big belly, lifting it up and out, and letting it drop and bounce.
I smiled at her “Who could blame you? Surrounded by such wonderful smells as you work so hard, you must work up an appetite.”
I patted my own stomach, which conveniently growled “and appetites cannot be denied”.
“True, but when encouraged, appetites grow—take me for example. When I started here two years ago, I weighed 111 pounds. Just being around food and tasting everything, I gained fifty pounds the first two months. Manny the owner, said “you are such a good worker, I need three of you” and with that, he doubled my salary and let me eat whatever I wished; I added another fifty just as quickly.
"Manny gave me another raise; shortly thereafter we started dating, and he started making an extra pan of flan for me every day; by three months ago, I weighed as much as three of who I was when I started working, and now I’m another half again, and Manny and I are engaged. It’s all been wonderful, but my hunger is constant now, I can’t stop eating.” She readjusted her belly, causing her whole body to ripple.
Just talking to this little plumpette was getting me aroused, even as I heard that her acreage had already been bought and paid for
“That’s wonderful. Congratulations. You see, men like meat on the bones.” I offered.
“Some women do too. Eat like you are today, and one will seek you out” she said over her shoulder, as she walked away, her tremendous ass shaking as she moved one fat thigh around the other. Manny certainly had sculpted a beauty.
I looked down at my own gut. I poked it, and gave it a squeeze. Actually, it was starting to get bigger lately—220 as of a few days ago. Oh well. Like she said, some women like this, I thought. And I dug into the small mountain of Mexican food.
I looked up from my daze as Maria brought the entrees to the two women I’d spied earlier. The chubbier one had indeed finished the nachos, and was looking a little glassy eyed and squirmed in her seat as the huge enchilada platter was placed before her; her skinnier friend, on the other hand, was gesturing to me as she spoke to Maria, and gave me a quick glance and a coy smile. I went back to eating, once again piqued.
After I’d plowed through my tacos and had made a big dent in the carnitas burrito platter, Maria came to my table, carrying a large order of three meat nachos, with what looked like extra cheese.
“You see what I mean?” she said, putting the order down in front of me “these are from your new fan over there”.
“You’re kidding.”
“No, no. She saw me talking to you and heard a bit of what we were saying, so she said to tell you that she was one of those that liked some meat, so she thought she’d send some over.”
I looked over, and the blond gave me a cute little wave and a sly smile. From the looks of it, her friend was in a stupor, having consumed as much as I had to this point, and the blonde had put half of her own entrée on her plate too. I waved back, nodded a thank you, and with that the blonde practically jumped from her seat and came over to my table. Maria raised her eyebrows and waddled away.
“Hi. I’m Laura. I couldn’t help overhearing that you were a man with an appetite. I love men with appetites. Could I join you?”
“Sure, have a seat—but what about your friend?”
“Sarah? She’s still got her work cut out for her over there, she won’t mind.”
“My name is Bob, pleased to meet you.”
“How’s your food Bob? I saw what Maria brought you, you’re a big eater.”
“So you decided to up the ante by sending over a family-sized tray of nachos. I say that’s unusual.”
“Like I said, I like a man that can eat, and I wanted to see whether you’d measure up.”
“I’m going to try.” Boy was she pretty. Just a little chubby, a slight love-handle and belly pooch under large breasts when she sat down and crossed her long legs “would you like some of my nachos? From the looks of it, Sarah is eating most of your dinner.”
“I’m good for now, thanks. Besides, this is all about you.” She moved my empty platter aside, and pushed the nachos in front of me.
“What exactly does that mean?”
“Let’s cut to the chase-Bob, I’m what one might call a feeder—I like watching people eat, enjoy watching them gain weight as I subtly encourage them to eat. At work, I make sure that every birthday in the office is celebrated, that every meeting has donuts, keep lots of candy around my desk. I’ve several girlfriends there that are each three or four sizes larger thanks to me— I take them out to lunch, buy them sugary cream filled coffee drinks—any calorie laden landmine that presents itself. I’ve been at it a long time.
"Sarah over there is a friend from college: we were roommates for three years, during which time I helped her gain almost fifty pounds. She lost most of it after graduation three years ago. She’s in town for a few days, and I slipped into my old habits, and she fell right in, eating everything I’ve put in front of her the last three days, she’ll go home with her buttons snapped along with her willpower.
"When other friends drop by, they leave with their pants tighter, and if they stay long enough, they go in a new, bigger outfit to remember their visit. But they’re all just hobbies—I’m looking for a man that loves his food, will relish the care and affection I’ll lovingly apply, and isn’t afraid of the effect my proclivities might have on him. Bob—are you that guy?”
I sat for a moment, wordlessly devouring her monologue along with the plate of nachos before me. You can’t tell, dear reader, but I’d just eaten a mountain of food, and I was stretched full-up as I picked up the last chip, gesturing with it, about to speak.
At that moment, Maria walked up, carrying six servings of flan.
“I heard your speech, Miss. Maybe you both should have some dessert while he thinks over your offer—you especially Miss—real men like meat on the bone.”
“That’s right” I said “will you ‘relish the care and affection’ that I’ll lovingly reciprocate? Then, Laura my dear, we might just hit it off.”
“Me? Oh I don’t know” she blushed “I mean, I’m too fat already!”
She grabbed the aforementioned negligible love handle quickly, distastefully, and threw her hands up defensively.
“Silly, skinny girl” Maria chimed in “whoever put that idea in your head should be flayed.
"Men like this," she declared, again lifting her belly up and out for a dramatic effect.
“Thanks Maria, but I can handle this” I said “so let me get this straight— you love fat, adore it, yet you’ve denied yourself the indulgence that brings it into being; you’re a feeder, you naughty girl, because you like to see what mischief you can cause those around you and then look saintly thin when you stand next to your unwitting targets.”
I took a plate of the flan, held it up to my mouth, and slurped it up like a jello-shot, and then proceeded to shoot three more rapid-fire. “Tell you what- I’ll show you the pleasure that comes with satisfying your appetites—you can impose your fetish on me if you’ll agree to slowly allow your guilty pleasure to fill you out, just a bit, and see whether you like it. But to seal the deal, those last two flans are yours.”
With that, I picked up a napkin, wiped my mouth, pushed back my chair, leaned back and unbuttoned my jeans.
It was all she could take. She picked up the first flan, shot it down like a pro, picked up the other, did the same, gagging a little. “Okay, I’m game. Let’s get out of here.”
“What about Sarah?”
“She drove, and she has a key to my place.”
I got up. Man I was swollen, my center of gravity shifted for the massive meal that now hung two inches out over my unbuttoned pants. You know you’ve eaten a lot when you feel your stomach stretching out sideways. I un-tucked my shirt to allow some more room to breathe, put my arm around Laura, waved goodbye to Maria, and we sauntered out, Laura rubbing my belly as we went, giddy as a schoolgirl.
“We should stop somewhere and get some supplies” she said.
“What did you have in mind?”
“I need baking supplies, groceries, and some snacks to hold you over until I’ve fixed something proper.”
“I did just eat dinner, and a big one at that.”
“Silly boy, that was just the start, in a week, that load will seem like an appetizer.”
So we stopped at a supermarket. We chatted as she emptied the bakery department into our cart, stocked up on dry goods, dairy, frozen foods, meat, poultry, deli, pasta, bread, soda, you name it. Turns out that Laura was a hotel major at that college she and Sarah attended, with a—jackpot—minor in culinary arts! And her office job was actually as an event planner for a museum, which meant that she was constantly reviewing menus, going to tastings—her life actually revolves around tasty, delectable amuses bouches.
Turns out she’s funny, too, but had altogether a terrible body image for someone who, I tell you, turned every head as we walked the aisles, with her hands straying to my swollen gut every chance she got.
I paid and loaded the car. Total time about two hours, and strangely, I was already getting hungry, so I dialed for two pizzas that we picked up on the way back.
We got to my house and unloaded the perishables before we settled on the couch, the pizzas before us on the coffee table.
“Okay, let’s get comfortable. Let’s get naked” I said, pulling my polo over my head, kicking off my jeans. She demurred.
“Come now, what did you picture would happen? Let’s see the goods” I said. Bashfully, she unbuttoned her top and took off her bra, revealing fantastic breasts-c cups definitely-defying gravity in the airspace above a little roll of fat that formed as she pulled off her skirt. In just her panties, the little roll on her belly folded over the front edge of the elastic and retreated back before swelling again just a little at her side. Her thighs were long, though soft, and her ass full though not large. Perfect place to start, I thought.
“I need to start running” she said, looking down.
I grabbed her chin gently, and said “the only running you’ll be doing is around the kitchen, getting food for the two of us”
“Well, for you maybe”
“Okay, I’m not going there now. Feed me pizza.”
And she did. By midnight, some three hours later, I’d outdone myself, eating one slice shy of 1½ pies. All along the way, I’d picked off pieces of the meat lover’s toppings, meatball, sausage, pepperoni and bacon, feeding them to her, and making her eat two slices of her own. Greasy with pizza, my stomach stretched to a size never before witnessed, and Laura’s pouting out after having consumed two desserts and for her an unusually large dinner, we started groping one another.
“Do you have a scale?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I want to see where you’re starting from”
Uggh. Fetishes.
“Okay, let’s go in the bedroom” nice recovery, I thought.
We went in, I stepped up. 226. Wow—about five pounds more than last time I’d check two weeks ago.
“I’m going to have you at 240 by the end of the month”
“14 pounds? In two weeks? Hmmm. That’s a lot, no?”
“Oh it’ll be fun” she said teasing me, reaching for my balls and giving them a squeeze.
I spun her around, squeezed her breasts, dropped one hand and caressed her belly.
“Your turn nextm” I whispered.
She reluctantly stepped on the scale. “129” she said with dismay in her voice.
“Don’t worry, your target for our next weigh-in is just 133”
I kissed her then and squeezed her bottom. She grabbed and squeezed my love handles. We climbed into bed, and began our groping again. She hopped out of bed for a minute and came back in covered in whipped cream. I licked it all off, she reapplied where it counted and I licked that off, too, making her groan in delight. Taking the can from her I filled my belly button and ran a thick trail down to the tip of my cock. She gobbled up those calories without hestitation. Eventually, she ended up on top, riding me to completion as she prodded and pinched my belly, while I marveled at her large breasts and converted all that food into fat.
And so it went for several weeks. She stuffed me to capacity before she left for work every morning, and put me to sleep engorged every night. After two months, I’d already hit 280. Working from home as I did, she began to “assign” me meals, facetiming me from work to watch me eat them, and in that third month I hit 313.
She really was an excellent feeder; during that whole time I never ate the same meal twice. My rolls had rolls of their own. I was fat, and she hadn’t any intention of letting up.
One day, I went out for some work errands, and found myself near the tacqueria where we’d met. My stomach growled, so I went in. There was Maria—she had to have put on another fifty pounds if she’d gained an ounce. Her belly hung to her knees, and standing on a small crate back some three feet from the counter she was leaning over to perch her enormous breasts across the counter. She could hardly reach the cash register around them, or see over them for that matter. Her ass rested against the shelf behind her, she nearly filled the entire space behind the counter.
“Maria, I’ll have the carnitas burrito platter and three chorizo tacos, and two Mexican cokes”
“Here or to go?”
“Here, please.”
“$16 is your total”.
I took a seat at the side of the counter where I could see her bustle about as I waited for my food. She moved more slowly now, pausing every thirty seconds for more flan, that she ate from a huge tray with a serving spoon.
When my food was ready she shuffled over, her fat undulating like a rough sea, finally looking at my face. A glimmer of recognition and then she exploded, dropping my food on the table and tackling me with a huge bosomy hug.
“Dios MIO! Tu es mucho Gordo! Gordo! What did I tell you! Appetites grow, no! Eat eat gordo, you look famished! I’ll join you.” And she shuffled over to get her flan and returned, breathing heavy from the exertion.
She looked me up and down, “you gained what, a hundred pounds? Bueno! I myself am on my way to being five little Marias. But I think you had two appetites, si? Yes, two appetites, that’s right. And one is still starving—that little flacca you left with, I saw her the other day too—if you are this big, she’s not keeping up her end of the bargain.
"Maybe she's a little softer, but just a poco, nothing like this” she grabbed my belly with both hands, lifting it and dropping it with her signature bounce “her appetite grows too, like my Manny, and because of them, soon neither of us will fit through the door. Don’t worry, we deliver, but you should have company by now—how can you be satisfied as a man with that stick when all this makes you like a rock down here?”
She groped under my belly finding my, well, truly aroused apparatus.
She was right. In the three months, I’d barely managed to get Laura to put on twenty pounds. She was 146 last week, the last time she’d consented to being weighed. As my physical appetite had soared, she was better able to distract me from enforcing her end of the bargain, and I’d become complacent. It was true, I wasn’t really satisfied, disappointed as I waited every day for her to jump on top of me and have those breasts of hers rest on my belly-- while I was growing up and out, her mams weren’t keeping pace, and neither was the rest of her. At the pace we were going, I’d be 400 pounds before she even hit size 14.
“Maria, what should I do? You're right—I’m totally thrilled on one hand, but on the other…”
“Life is like scales, they should balance. You must make her want to catch up.”
“How?"
“Whisper to her”
“What?”
“Just whisper to her. While she sleeps. Softly tell her that she is too skinny, suggest that she should worry about losing you to someone like me. Take her hands and rub them on her body, telling her how much happier she’ll be with a soft belly, a big bum, fat legs, fat tits. Whisper that she should feel guilty for not keeping up her bargain. Tell her that deep down she’s hungry, and must feed her appetite with herself instead of others."
"You think that will work?"
"Si. Definitely. You’ll see--it will take a week or two, but she’ll start to eat, and by the end of the month, she’ll be unstoppable.”
End of Part 1- stay tuned...
(Contiued in post 7 of this thread)
