flabby_abbi
Well-Known Member
~BBW, ~~WG - Tom is an aspiring young chef with big dreams and you'll soon find out what kind of form they take in my first story ever!
Part One: Big Future
I haven’t always been large you know. I used to be quite slim to tell the truth, even muscular.
I guess it all started when I started this new job of mine. Seeing as it was a job in the catering business, I was in constant exposure to food, all of it delicious.
My cooking talents at that time weren’t great, so I was made understudy to one of the best chefs in London, Jacques Perrien, who taught me virtually everything I now know about cooking. He always insisted on me sampling his creations, and how could I resist?
He would hand me plate after plate of steaming fish dishes with delicious homemade French fries, tasty lasagnes, succulent chicken stir-fries, and many more incredible dishes which left me clamouring for more.
And to top that, I was always left with the job with clearing up the remains of the day’s cooking and washing the dishes. Cleaning the dishes was a tough chore, but it was made easier after I had finished off the delicious remnants of Jacques’s handiwork.
Each day was pure bliss for me, and it had come as a great surprise to me at my age, only 24 at the time and holding down a dream job, for me at least (and you would think for any food-loving person), in which work was limited, the pay was good and I had a goddess of a wife.
She was slim, slender, big-breasted, a blonde bombshell to put it frankly. And as well as that she was caring, sweet and understanding. Though it seemed not quite so understanding when the first signs of an evident weight gain on my behalf became apparent.
‘Well what do we have here?’ she said, indicating a small roll of flab peaking from beneath my boxer shorts.
‘Oh that’s nothing,’ I said, heaving my boxers over it with some difficulty before clambering into bed.
‘It’s always been there, now come here.’
Pulling her down onto the bed with me and kissing her passionately was an attempt to distract her from my gain and it worked, I’m pleased to say. She was completely taken aback but soon settled into it. I didn’t want her to become too fixated on my new roll of flab because I knew she’d pester me to lose some weight and to be honest I had not the time or the desire to do this. I liked this new development; its softness and slight jiggle felt much better than my formerly hard, washboard stomach had.
So things continued as normal.
I pursued my interest in culinary aspects more, often staying late to recreate the dishes Jacques had taught me how to make in order to taste the pleasure one more time. I would return home virtually full, but now I found I still had room for a reasonably large meal with my wife. That’s the great thing when you put on more and more weight. You can eat more and more!
But after couple of months, Hannah noticed.
‘Tom,’ she said, peering at me in my seated position on the bed with a mega-sized tub of crispy crèmes between my legs, (chubby legs, that is!), ‘are you sure all this weight your putting on is nothing?’ poking my plump stomach billowing out of my open trousers with a wry smile.
‘I know it looks like I’ve gained a lot, but it’s really nothing,’ I reassured her, digging into my fifth donut.
‘Really nothing eh?’ she answered, dragging me over to the bathroom and leading me onto the scales.
Now had she done this a couple of months ago; the numbers glaring back at me would have been about 168 pounds, and that was mostly muscle. But now, with most of my former muscle gone, 189 pounds was the figure. Almost 189 pounds of pure flab, what a transformation!
‘Not much then, my little piggy?’ Hannah laughed playfully, hugging me firmly around the middle, squashing all of my luscious, soft belly fat up against the wall. She kissed me on one of my fat cheeks.
‘Now I can allow this weight gaining, honey, but any more and you're going to have to lose it all,’ she said, firm now.
I smiled at her and kissed her back, but I was secretly crestfallen at this news as it was almost inevitable I’d put on some form of weight, and I was firmly enjoying my current physique.
But returning to what I was before wasn’t all that bad, was it? I mean, I was as happy then as I was now, and I could sense my wife was slightly unhappy with my new, flabby form, though it was hard to tell. I returned to bed, after having given myself a long hard look in the mirror to decide what was best, to find my wife halfway through the remainder of my donuts!
‘Hannah!’ I said. ‘Those are mine!’
She looked up at me, licking the creamy insides off her lips. ‘Yes darling, but you don’t want to gain any more weight, do you?’
‘No,’ I agreed unwillingly, to say the least, whilst getting into bed beside her, ‘but one couldn’t hurt could it?’ I reached for the last donut hungrily.
She slapped my hand away.
‘No!’ she said, pulling the box away. ‘You heard what I said, keep the same weight or lose a few, chubby!’
‘But Hannah…’ I said forlornly, eyeing the creamy, sugar-coated donut greedily.
‘No, and I’ll take the other box you have in your draw,’ she said, fetching my midnight snack from my chest of drawers and keeping it as close to her as possible, in order for me not to eat it. ‘And I think this whole weight matter should have one conclusion, that you lose all the weight you’ve put on and return to normal.’
‘But..’ I pleaded.
‘And if you want to have sex with me again you’ll drop the matter,’ she said, switching off the light.
She said nothing for to me until the morning, by which time both boxes had disappeared and as I searched the bed for my briefs, I noticed a globule of cream on her pillow.
Her wishes for me to lose weight I did not share, but it seemed my employers wanted to me to lose weight, as they awarded me the job of sous-chef in their main restaurant, Hernandez’s, meaning that I would be preparing far more food than I would be tasting. This also meant I had to bid farewell to Jacques, whose excellent food and tutoring I would miss, but his kind nature and the great friendship we had shared of those few months when we worked together.
Still, I jumped at the chance to earn more money and work at such a prestigious restaurant. Also, it meant that, even though I was unwilling to, I could please my wife and lose weight.
The working hours were shorter, as I was mainly employed to work the later shifts from 5 - 10, which did mean I spent less time with my wife, as she works too; but she seemed happy at home by herself or with her friends in the evenings, so I was happy too.
I spent most of my free time working out in the local gym, more of it as I lost more weight, or brushing up on my cooking skills for the evening when I would be required to cook dish after dish of top-notch food, all of which I couldn’t eat myself! That in itself was a shame, but pleasing my wife always came first for me and I avoided the temptation.
I was pleased with my early progress in my weight loss, for in the first two weeks I managed to lose 9 pounds, turning most of it into muscle, meaning the actual weight loss didn’t seem as much (muscle weighs more than fat, but it’s not as beautiful).
After spending the early morning with my wife, I would spend up until lunch and about 2 hours after lunch in the gym before performing my duties in the restaurant in the evening. Each time I would return exhausted to my wife at 10, generally only having time for quick dinner, though I still had tendency to cook more than was necessary. Strangely though, on my return, I would find my resources limited and the following morning I would frequently have to stock up on more food.
I enjoyed my evening meals with my wife, as it would finally give me the chance to eat some of my creations, and I suddenly seemed to be able to eat less and not feel hungry afterwards, meaning no after-dinner tub of ice cream or midnight snack, though I did miss those.
My wife enjoyed my food immensely; she was forgiven for perhaps enjoying it ‘too much’ and pinching most of mine when I was not in the room for whatever reason. I didn’t mind, though, as it meant there was less food on my plate, meaning I could lose more weight, quicker. And on top of that, Hannah always made sure I didn’t snack or anything, though I don’t know why was it didn’t exactly cause me to ‘pile on the pounds’ and our cupboards were always stocked to the brim, well they were when I left in the morning, so one snack here and there couldn’t hurt.
It was soon after that we discovered that Hannah was two months' pregnant, meaning she would have to quit work. I was so happy, the happiest I think I’d ever been, even though it meant there was less pay coming in (but my salary was sufficient for even a family of 5, so no worries there). I’d always wanted a kid and always thought I’d make a good father, so this was the best news yet. Also, I’d lost quite a bit more weight and had gained back some more muscle, I was almost thin enough to fit into my old clothes.
My wife now was almost permanently at home; I insisted on it.
I was determined to make sure that our first child was healthy, and that can only happen with a well-looked-after mother. It was my understanding that she spent most of the day either watching TV or gossiping on the phone with her friends; well, that’s what I thought at first.
Cooking Up Some Fun
by Flabby Abbi
by Flabby Abbi
Part One: Big Future
I haven’t always been large you know. I used to be quite slim to tell the truth, even muscular.
I guess it all started when I started this new job of mine. Seeing as it was a job in the catering business, I was in constant exposure to food, all of it delicious.
My cooking talents at that time weren’t great, so I was made understudy to one of the best chefs in London, Jacques Perrien, who taught me virtually everything I now know about cooking. He always insisted on me sampling his creations, and how could I resist?
He would hand me plate after plate of steaming fish dishes with delicious homemade French fries, tasty lasagnes, succulent chicken stir-fries, and many more incredible dishes which left me clamouring for more.
And to top that, I was always left with the job with clearing up the remains of the day’s cooking and washing the dishes. Cleaning the dishes was a tough chore, but it was made easier after I had finished off the delicious remnants of Jacques’s handiwork.
Each day was pure bliss for me, and it had come as a great surprise to me at my age, only 24 at the time and holding down a dream job, for me at least (and you would think for any food-loving person), in which work was limited, the pay was good and I had a goddess of a wife.
She was slim, slender, big-breasted, a blonde bombshell to put it frankly. And as well as that she was caring, sweet and understanding. Though it seemed not quite so understanding when the first signs of an evident weight gain on my behalf became apparent.
‘Well what do we have here?’ she said, indicating a small roll of flab peaking from beneath my boxer shorts.
‘Oh that’s nothing,’ I said, heaving my boxers over it with some difficulty before clambering into bed.
‘It’s always been there, now come here.’
Pulling her down onto the bed with me and kissing her passionately was an attempt to distract her from my gain and it worked, I’m pleased to say. She was completely taken aback but soon settled into it. I didn’t want her to become too fixated on my new roll of flab because I knew she’d pester me to lose some weight and to be honest I had not the time or the desire to do this. I liked this new development; its softness and slight jiggle felt much better than my formerly hard, washboard stomach had.
So things continued as normal.
I pursued my interest in culinary aspects more, often staying late to recreate the dishes Jacques had taught me how to make in order to taste the pleasure one more time. I would return home virtually full, but now I found I still had room for a reasonably large meal with my wife. That’s the great thing when you put on more and more weight. You can eat more and more!
But after couple of months, Hannah noticed.
‘Tom,’ she said, peering at me in my seated position on the bed with a mega-sized tub of crispy crèmes between my legs, (chubby legs, that is!), ‘are you sure all this weight your putting on is nothing?’ poking my plump stomach billowing out of my open trousers with a wry smile.
‘I know it looks like I’ve gained a lot, but it’s really nothing,’ I reassured her, digging into my fifth donut.
‘Really nothing eh?’ she answered, dragging me over to the bathroom and leading me onto the scales.
Now had she done this a couple of months ago; the numbers glaring back at me would have been about 168 pounds, and that was mostly muscle. But now, with most of my former muscle gone, 189 pounds was the figure. Almost 189 pounds of pure flab, what a transformation!
‘Not much then, my little piggy?’ Hannah laughed playfully, hugging me firmly around the middle, squashing all of my luscious, soft belly fat up against the wall. She kissed me on one of my fat cheeks.
‘Now I can allow this weight gaining, honey, but any more and you're going to have to lose it all,’ she said, firm now.
I smiled at her and kissed her back, but I was secretly crestfallen at this news as it was almost inevitable I’d put on some form of weight, and I was firmly enjoying my current physique.
But returning to what I was before wasn’t all that bad, was it? I mean, I was as happy then as I was now, and I could sense my wife was slightly unhappy with my new, flabby form, though it was hard to tell. I returned to bed, after having given myself a long hard look in the mirror to decide what was best, to find my wife halfway through the remainder of my donuts!
‘Hannah!’ I said. ‘Those are mine!’
She looked up at me, licking the creamy insides off her lips. ‘Yes darling, but you don’t want to gain any more weight, do you?’
‘No,’ I agreed unwillingly, to say the least, whilst getting into bed beside her, ‘but one couldn’t hurt could it?’ I reached for the last donut hungrily.
She slapped my hand away.
‘No!’ she said, pulling the box away. ‘You heard what I said, keep the same weight or lose a few, chubby!’
‘But Hannah…’ I said forlornly, eyeing the creamy, sugar-coated donut greedily.
‘No, and I’ll take the other box you have in your draw,’ she said, fetching my midnight snack from my chest of drawers and keeping it as close to her as possible, in order for me not to eat it. ‘And I think this whole weight matter should have one conclusion, that you lose all the weight you’ve put on and return to normal.’
‘But..’ I pleaded.
‘And if you want to have sex with me again you’ll drop the matter,’ she said, switching off the light.
She said nothing for to me until the morning, by which time both boxes had disappeared and as I searched the bed for my briefs, I noticed a globule of cream on her pillow.
Her wishes for me to lose weight I did not share, but it seemed my employers wanted to me to lose weight, as they awarded me the job of sous-chef in their main restaurant, Hernandez’s, meaning that I would be preparing far more food than I would be tasting. This also meant I had to bid farewell to Jacques, whose excellent food and tutoring I would miss, but his kind nature and the great friendship we had shared of those few months when we worked together.
Still, I jumped at the chance to earn more money and work at such a prestigious restaurant. Also, it meant that, even though I was unwilling to, I could please my wife and lose weight.
The working hours were shorter, as I was mainly employed to work the later shifts from 5 - 10, which did mean I spent less time with my wife, as she works too; but she seemed happy at home by herself or with her friends in the evenings, so I was happy too.
I spent most of my free time working out in the local gym, more of it as I lost more weight, or brushing up on my cooking skills for the evening when I would be required to cook dish after dish of top-notch food, all of which I couldn’t eat myself! That in itself was a shame, but pleasing my wife always came first for me and I avoided the temptation.
I was pleased with my early progress in my weight loss, for in the first two weeks I managed to lose 9 pounds, turning most of it into muscle, meaning the actual weight loss didn’t seem as much (muscle weighs more than fat, but it’s not as beautiful).
After spending the early morning with my wife, I would spend up until lunch and about 2 hours after lunch in the gym before performing my duties in the restaurant in the evening. Each time I would return exhausted to my wife at 10, generally only having time for quick dinner, though I still had tendency to cook more than was necessary. Strangely though, on my return, I would find my resources limited and the following morning I would frequently have to stock up on more food.
I enjoyed my evening meals with my wife, as it would finally give me the chance to eat some of my creations, and I suddenly seemed to be able to eat less and not feel hungry afterwards, meaning no after-dinner tub of ice cream or midnight snack, though I did miss those.
My wife enjoyed my food immensely; she was forgiven for perhaps enjoying it ‘too much’ and pinching most of mine when I was not in the room for whatever reason. I didn’t mind, though, as it meant there was less food on my plate, meaning I could lose more weight, quicker. And on top of that, Hannah always made sure I didn’t snack or anything, though I don’t know why was it didn’t exactly cause me to ‘pile on the pounds’ and our cupboards were always stocked to the brim, well they were when I left in the morning, so one snack here and there couldn’t hurt.
It was soon after that we discovered that Hannah was two months' pregnant, meaning she would have to quit work. I was so happy, the happiest I think I’d ever been, even though it meant there was less pay coming in (but my salary was sufficient for even a family of 5, so no worries there). I’d always wanted a kid and always thought I’d make a good father, so this was the best news yet. Also, I’d lost quite a bit more weight and had gained back some more muscle, I was almost thin enough to fit into my old clothes.
My wife now was almost permanently at home; I insisted on it.
I was determined to make sure that our first child was healthy, and that can only happen with a well-looked-after mother. It was my understanding that she spent most of the day either watching TV or gossiping on the phone with her friends; well, that’s what I thought at first.
