Tad
Dimensions' loiterer
~BBW, ~BHM, ~~WG - A man finds out how enjoyable it is to loosen his eating habits.
I remember the turning point clearly. It was Sunday afternoon. I'd retreated to our bedroom and was reading the newspaper as I sprawled on the bed. I'd left Amanda in the kitchen, defiantly serving herself a bowl of ice cream. I was wondering if this problem was going to tear us apart.
Simply put, neither of us were thin, and neither of us had a problem with that, but Amanda loved junk food and I didn't. I tried not to be too priggish about it, but I'd never really liked sweet snacks or super-rich food, although the 220 pounds I carried on my 5'10" frame was testament to the fact that I did love to eat.
Amanda, on the other hand, carried 20 more pounds on 7 less inches, and was an unrepentant junk food junkie. I just couldn't bring myself to approve of her eating habits, no matter how much I adored her chubby form. I even had to admit that I loved that she'd gained 20 pounds in the less than a year that we'd lived together, but I simply wasn't comfortable with how she'd gained it. I'd gained ten pounds during that same time, without trying and without eating much junk. On the other hand, Amanda felt that my disapproval of junk food indicated a less than total acceptance of fatness, and that my disapproval of her eating habits suggested I wasn't as totally in lust with her figure as I claimed.
The whole issue had blown up again because we'd gone to a sumptuous Sunday brunch, and while I had some eggs and sausages I then filled up on veggies and a huge plateful of fruit. I arrived back at the table with my fruit as Amanda returned with a plate loaded with three types of cake and a pile of cookies. She'd given a look of disgust at my plate, and we'd hardly talked since.
The Challenge
It was early November, and I was looking for information on the November the 11th ceremonies later that week—one of my grandfathers died in WWII and I always try to make the remembrance services - when she walked in and plumped her not so little behind down on the bed.
"I have a proposal for you," she announced. "For two months you saturate your diet with junk food. After that, you can eat what you want, and I won't say a thing. I just want you to give the stuff a serious trial run. You might like it more than you think."
My initial reaction was that she was nuts, but fortunately I held my tongue while I thought it through. I really did like Amanda. From when we met in a laundromat we'd both felt something special. I'd always liked chubby girls, and when I'd seen this plump cutie struggling to do her wash without using her sprained wrist, I had figured I could do a good deed and get in some harmless flirting. Instead we'd ended up going out for dinner, and within a couple of months we'd moved in together. We'd simply clicked from the start, on all sorts of levels, and while some of our friends couldn't get over how fast we'd moved so far, I was seriously thinking about going ring shopping soon. Wasn't a relationship like this worth making some sacrifices for?
After all, from my perspective the problem wasn't huge. She liked junk food, I didn't; I could live with that. Now she was saying if I'd give junk food a chance for a couple of months, then I could go back to my old habits and she'd be willing to live with that too.
I was rewarded by a flash of relief on her face when I said, "OK, I'll give it a try."
A Filling Afternoon
It quickly became clear that Amanda had put some thought into this.
"I'm going to be a real bitch about this at first, until you get used the requirements of this diet," she warned me.
She wasn't the least bit bitchy, but she was quite firm that afternoon. She quickly got us loaded into our old beater of a car, and then dropped me off at our neighborhood bar-restaurant while she went to get some groceries.
"I'll meet you back here for dinner in a while. In the meantime, have a beer and a large order of chicken wings."
I'd never been a big fan of chicken wings, but I did as she said. I was a little surprised to find, half an hour later, that my plate and glass were empty and I was feeling hungrier than when I sat down. I saw the waitress eyeing the empty plates, but I didn't want her to take away the evidence, so I made a show of eating the leftover crumbs and dabs of sauce.
Fortunately Amanda arrived about the time I had the plate licked clean. She looked at the state of the plate, beamed happily at me, and said, "Great, all ready for supper I see."
I figured after that I'd have something suitably nonhealth-foodish, but not too big, like a burger.
Amanda waved over the waitress, gave her order, then said, "And he'll have the steak and kidney pie with fries, and a large caesar salad to start."
After the waitress left, she commented, "I never said you can't eat some good stuff mixed in with the junk--I'll make sure you get enough meat and vegetables along with everything else—but everything gets richer. This isn't just plain salad and a lean steak with some ice cream afterwards."
Since a plain steak and a salad without dressing had been exactly my plan, I simply kept my mouth shut.
The salad and main dish were both quite good, although I recall I found the steak and kidney pie somewhat salty, and I was a bit shocked at how large an order of fries came with it. Nonetheless, I cleaned my plate dutifully. By the time I was finished, I was in a bit of a stupor from all the grease. Which was just as well, because otherwise I might have broken the agreement when Amanda ordered a slice of raspberry cheesecake for me. In the state I was in, I could do little but groan quietly, then eat it with surprisingly little difficulty when it came. The food was heavy, but not as physically filling as I was used to.
A Fulfilling Evening
We arrived home around 6:30pm, having started supper early. Amanda sent me into the living room while she unpacked groceries, obviously planning to keep much of what she intended to feed me as a secret. I recall thinking as I picked up the remote that it was only two months, and the food was better than what I'd had to put up with in the student residence for eight months when I was a freshman.
I was still flipping channels in hopes of finding something worth watching, when Amanda called me into the bedroom. I was thinking "Oh no, I left the newspaper all over the bed, she hates that," as I headed in. Instead, what I found spread all over the bed was Amanda, wearing the tacky fishnet bodysuit that I'd bought for her as a joke on Valentine's Day. It had barely fit then, and she was truly bulging out of it now. I'm sure my jaw dropped.
"You were such a good boy I thought you deserved a reward," she smirked.
Later that evening when she served us up cereal bowls full of ice cream covered in whipped cream, I had to admit I'd earned that snack.
Responsibilities.
The Morning After
The next morning, as usual, Amanda rolled over and hit snooze on the clock radio after it sounded, then trundled off in the direction of the shower. I hit snooze a couple more times before I got up. When I made it to the kitchen, I was surprised not to see her there, then I realized that I could still hear the shower running. I finally focused enough to notice the box of sugar dusted mini-donuts on the table, next to the bagels and tub of cream cheese. I shrugged and grabbed a mini-donut as I went by on my way to the coffee maker. I offered my morning thanks for automatic timers as I poured my brew, then noticed that there was a cream pitcher out beside the coffee maker. I smiled at myself, thinking how thorough Amanda always was, and poured cream in my coffee instead of my usual 1%. I checked, and sure enough my box of Special K Fiber cereal had gone missing.
By the time Amanda showed up I'd mostly finished off my first cup and a couple of more sugar-donuts. I gave my sweetie a quick peck on the cheek, and then headed off for my turn in the shower.
When I came back, she had poured me a fresh cup of coffee, thick with cream, and had left a bagel with about half an inch of cream cheese on it at my place. She was at the counter, just finishing packing our lunches. I chowed down on the bagel, and then--making sure that she noticed--ate two more of the donuts and washed them down with the coffee.
Once she had dropped me off at work, I peeked into my lunch bag. Some oversized relative of a twinkie had replaced my usual mid-morning bran muffin. Lunch included my usual sandwich, banana, and carrot sticks, but also cheese and crackers, and half a dozen cookies.
First Month Done!
After that day, our procedure was pretty well set. Amanda mostly picked out my foods, and I dutifully ate them. For the first couple of weeks it was tough at times to down so much sweet and rich food, but after that it began to get easier. After a month, in all honesty, I didn't even miss my old food choices. Not that I had become a huge fan of twinkies and fettuccini alfredo, but I no longer missed my low-fat, high-fiber breakfast cereals, my low-fat milk, or plain baked potatoes.
Mind you, after a month I did miss being able to button up my pants easily, so we went shopping. I was a little embarrassed when I realized how quickly I'd gained another ten pounds, but Amanda made it clear that she had expected as much, loved my new bulges, and was eager to take me out shopping.
I needed a 42" waist for pants now, which is the largest size that you can find in most men's stores. To my surprise, Amanda didn't take me to a regular men's store. She took me to "Mr. Bigfellow, for big and tall men."
I protested that I didn't need to shop there.
She replied with a twinkle in her eye: "They do carry your size, you know. Do you have a problem with shopping in a fat guy's store?"
I fought a brief internal battle, and decided that it would be best if I didn't have any objections. "No, I guess it's fine, I was just surprised."
"That's OK," she assured me as she gave a quick squeeze to one of my love handles. "When I had to start shopping in the fat girl stores I hated it at first, but I got used to it."
It seemed to me that she was implying that I would always be shopping in the big guy stores after this. I figured after my two months were over I'd lose most of the weight. On the other hand, I also figured there was no need to mention that until it happened, so I said nothing.
After that shopping trip, Amanda turned up the calories even more. It wasn't just junk food instead of healthier items, it was more food, lots more food.
She didn't make a big point of it, and it took me a few days to even realize how systematic she was being. She'd simply serve us each up a banana split in the evening, after we'd already had dinner and dessert. Or order in pizza. Or meet me for lunch and take us to the nearby all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet. In fact, she led in the eating, but by this point I was used to following. Day by day, it seemed we ate more and more, so that by the week before Christmas it seemed that whenever I was with her, I was eating. During one afternoon of Christmas shopping at the mall we spent $47 on food, despite eating lunch and supper at home.
Christmas Feasting
Speaking of Christmas, I admit I was just as happy that we weren't going to visit either of our families. We'd each gained at least 20 pounds since we'd last seen them, and I was faintly embarrassed. We each took as holidays the entire week between Christmas and New Years, pleased to have some vacation time together.
We finished our Christmas shopping in time to ship presents off to friends and family. After that, we still seemed to go out as much, but we'd end up at bars or restaurants instead of malls. We explored loads of eating spots around the city that we hadn't been into before, and generally enjoyed the cheer of the season.
To my surprise, on Christmas Eve day, Amanda took off to do some last minute shopping. From the size of the pile of presents waiting for me around our bonsai tree, I couldn't imagine that she needed to buy anything else for me, but she refused to explain. She banished me to the spare room to play computer games for an hour when she got home. At least she made sure I was comfortable with a plate of Christmas cookies and beer mug full of eggnog.
Celebration
On Christmas morning Amanda brought me breakfast in bed. It seemed most of Amanda's last minute shopping had been for food. She fed me until I was so stuffed I felt I couldn't even sit up. She then began to stroke my distended body, and as I grew aroused I realized that my stomach was so full I couldn't take a full breath. The sensation was a little terrifying at first, but quickly became powerfully erotic as I realized I'd literally eaten my way to a state of temporary disability.
Some time later, I found I could move again, and we shifted into the living room, and opened our presents, feeling like kids as we were dressed only in our pajamas. Granted, I had to leave the top button of my pajama bottoms undone to allow room for my swollen belly, and the seams of Amanda's pink satin pajama shorts were straining to contain the glorious swell of her derriere.
After opening our presents, we ate a large lunch, then I lay around munching on cookies and chocolates as Amanda prepared a Christmas dinner for eight. We didn't eat it all, but we put an impressive dent in it. Although all afternoon we'd quipped about how careful we'd have to be in making love that night, with how full we would be, the honest truth is that I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.
The next day we ate nearly as much again in leftovers, and still we never left the house. I took the initiative to prepare our meals that day, and showed my dedication to our pact by trying to make them even more decadent than what we'd had the day before.
The day after that, neither of us could easily button our jeans, so we hit the after-Christmas sales. In the "fat people stores," as Amanda called them. My stomach was so distended from all the food that I needed a 44" waist. Amanda moved into a women's size 24. Besides clothes, we also bought a lot of marked-down Christmas goodies, and even a couple of sharply discounted turkeys.
Besides occasional trips out for food or videos, we really didn't get out of our apartment much for the rest of the week. Not that we didn't get a fair amount of exercise, but I have to admit that mostly what we did was eat. It became a bit of an unspoken competition, to see who could ignore their stuffed belly enough to come up with the next tantalizing treat that would get us to eat anyways.
I should have felt totally disgusting. I was just about swimming in grease and sugar and salt. Instead, I felt great. My conscience had finally shut up, and I simply enjoyed the food. Well, I admit that I also enjoyed being so totally stuffed. It was exciting and erotic in a strange sort of way.
We didn't go out for New Years. Instead, we went out and bought a massive load of groceries on December 30th, and prepared it all. We aimed to start the New Year with empty cupboards. For the first part of the day, it looked like we would finish it all off with no trouble. Then we began to slow down, and by 9pm our objective looked doubtful, and we began to frantically stuff ourselves. We ended up finishing it all off by quarter after 11. To celebrate the new year, we ordered in pizza at 12:03.
The Post-New-Years Hang-Over
On New Years Day, we decided to go out for brunch. Mind you, by the time we woke up and were ready to face more food, it was close to noon. In the shower, I couldn't believe how much belly I had to wash. Getting dressed in respectable clothes, after over a week of sweat pants, pajamas, and bath robes seemed strange. I found I truly needed those 44" waist pants and all my other new "fat" clothes. I noticed when I sat down to breakfast that my belly flowed over my belt and then drooped down to hide it. There was no question that Amanda needed her size 24s either. It wasn't just her belly that wouldn't have fit in her old clothes, her new pants were none too loose in the behind either.
We returned to the same place that we had eaten on the day that this all started. I managed to finish off six loaded plates, two of them filled with nothing but cakes and pastries.
The next day, I headed back to work. I was actually kind of glad to get back, as I had to admit our level of gluttony over the course of the holidays had reached absurd proportions. Although our deal was still in effect, a large-ish, junky breakfast and lunch seemed almost Spartan after what we'd been eating. I told myself it would be a relief.
By 10am I was ravenous, and ended up eating my snack, then going down to the cafeteria for a donut. I went back for another one at eleven. After I had my bagged lunch, I was back again for an extra dessert.
After a few days, my appetite had scaled back somewhat, but only somewhat.
Back to Normal
Finally, two months were complete. I got up in the morning to find no donuts in the kitchen, and my high-fiber cereal and low-fat milk back in their places. I felt a little let down, but I told myself it was time to get back to normal, and served myself a moderate bowl of cereal, topped with only a little sugar. It hardly seemed to fill me up, but I told myself I would be fine, and went to take my shower.
A while later, as we drove into work together, I could hear my stomach grumble. We approached a donut shop, and Amanda announced "I'm going to stop in and get some coffee. Do you want anything?"
I took a deep breath, then admitted, "Yeah, I think I do. How about a chocolate glazed donut? No, make that a honey cruller. Well, maybe both."
"Are you sure?"
The words came out of my mouth like they were the most natural thing in the world. "How would you like to split a box of six?"
"Sure." she replied with a big smile, which I noticed now formed a triple chin. My stomach rumbled approvingly.
Epilogue
A couple of weeks later I was working on cleaning up the apartment one evening when Amanda had to work late. I'd drawn all of the blinds and curtains, and taken off my pants. It seemed that the waistband was making it hard to bend over to pick stuff up off the floor. All the same, I let out a grunt of effort as I got down on all fours to go fishing under the couch—something I hadn't done in ages.
Besides dust bunnies, popcorn particles, and the wrapper from an ice-cream sandwich, I fished out an old copy of Reader's Digest. It was spindled so it would lie open. I glanced at the article: "New Habits in Two Months." After I struggled back to my feet, I felt I deserved a break, so I carried the magazine into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of whole milk and pulled out a row of Oreos, and read the article. It took a couple of pages to simply say that it took one month to eliminate an old habit, and another month to build a new one. I shrugged when I finished, and reached for another cookie. I didn't have any habits that I cared to change.
Fat Habits
by Edx
Introductionby Edx
I remember the turning point clearly. It was Sunday afternoon. I'd retreated to our bedroom and was reading the newspaper as I sprawled on the bed. I'd left Amanda in the kitchen, defiantly serving herself a bowl of ice cream. I was wondering if this problem was going to tear us apart.
Simply put, neither of us were thin, and neither of us had a problem with that, but Amanda loved junk food and I didn't. I tried not to be too priggish about it, but I'd never really liked sweet snacks or super-rich food, although the 220 pounds I carried on my 5'10" frame was testament to the fact that I did love to eat.
Amanda, on the other hand, carried 20 more pounds on 7 less inches, and was an unrepentant junk food junkie. I just couldn't bring myself to approve of her eating habits, no matter how much I adored her chubby form. I even had to admit that I loved that she'd gained 20 pounds in the less than a year that we'd lived together, but I simply wasn't comfortable with how she'd gained it. I'd gained ten pounds during that same time, without trying and without eating much junk. On the other hand, Amanda felt that my disapproval of junk food indicated a less than total acceptance of fatness, and that my disapproval of her eating habits suggested I wasn't as totally in lust with her figure as I claimed.
The whole issue had blown up again because we'd gone to a sumptuous Sunday brunch, and while I had some eggs and sausages I then filled up on veggies and a huge plateful of fruit. I arrived back at the table with my fruit as Amanda returned with a plate loaded with three types of cake and a pile of cookies. She'd given a look of disgust at my plate, and we'd hardly talked since.
The Challenge
It was early November, and I was looking for information on the November the 11th ceremonies later that week—one of my grandfathers died in WWII and I always try to make the remembrance services - when she walked in and plumped her not so little behind down on the bed.
"I have a proposal for you," she announced. "For two months you saturate your diet with junk food. After that, you can eat what you want, and I won't say a thing. I just want you to give the stuff a serious trial run. You might like it more than you think."
My initial reaction was that she was nuts, but fortunately I held my tongue while I thought it through. I really did like Amanda. From when we met in a laundromat we'd both felt something special. I'd always liked chubby girls, and when I'd seen this plump cutie struggling to do her wash without using her sprained wrist, I had figured I could do a good deed and get in some harmless flirting. Instead we'd ended up going out for dinner, and within a couple of months we'd moved in together. We'd simply clicked from the start, on all sorts of levels, and while some of our friends couldn't get over how fast we'd moved so far, I was seriously thinking about going ring shopping soon. Wasn't a relationship like this worth making some sacrifices for?
After all, from my perspective the problem wasn't huge. She liked junk food, I didn't; I could live with that. Now she was saying if I'd give junk food a chance for a couple of months, then I could go back to my old habits and she'd be willing to live with that too.
I was rewarded by a flash of relief on her face when I said, "OK, I'll give it a try."
A Filling Afternoon
It quickly became clear that Amanda had put some thought into this.
"I'm going to be a real bitch about this at first, until you get used the requirements of this diet," she warned me.
She wasn't the least bit bitchy, but she was quite firm that afternoon. She quickly got us loaded into our old beater of a car, and then dropped me off at our neighborhood bar-restaurant while she went to get some groceries.
"I'll meet you back here for dinner in a while. In the meantime, have a beer and a large order of chicken wings."
I'd never been a big fan of chicken wings, but I did as she said. I was a little surprised to find, half an hour later, that my plate and glass were empty and I was feeling hungrier than when I sat down. I saw the waitress eyeing the empty plates, but I didn't want her to take away the evidence, so I made a show of eating the leftover crumbs and dabs of sauce.
Fortunately Amanda arrived about the time I had the plate licked clean. She looked at the state of the plate, beamed happily at me, and said, "Great, all ready for supper I see."
I figured after that I'd have something suitably nonhealth-foodish, but not too big, like a burger.
Amanda waved over the waitress, gave her order, then said, "And he'll have the steak and kidney pie with fries, and a large caesar salad to start."
After the waitress left, she commented, "I never said you can't eat some good stuff mixed in with the junk--I'll make sure you get enough meat and vegetables along with everything else—but everything gets richer. This isn't just plain salad and a lean steak with some ice cream afterwards."
Since a plain steak and a salad without dressing had been exactly my plan, I simply kept my mouth shut.
The salad and main dish were both quite good, although I recall I found the steak and kidney pie somewhat salty, and I was a bit shocked at how large an order of fries came with it. Nonetheless, I cleaned my plate dutifully. By the time I was finished, I was in a bit of a stupor from all the grease. Which was just as well, because otherwise I might have broken the agreement when Amanda ordered a slice of raspberry cheesecake for me. In the state I was in, I could do little but groan quietly, then eat it with surprisingly little difficulty when it came. The food was heavy, but not as physically filling as I was used to.
A Fulfilling Evening
We arrived home around 6:30pm, having started supper early. Amanda sent me into the living room while she unpacked groceries, obviously planning to keep much of what she intended to feed me as a secret. I recall thinking as I picked up the remote that it was only two months, and the food was better than what I'd had to put up with in the student residence for eight months when I was a freshman.
I was still flipping channels in hopes of finding something worth watching, when Amanda called me into the bedroom. I was thinking "Oh no, I left the newspaper all over the bed, she hates that," as I headed in. Instead, what I found spread all over the bed was Amanda, wearing the tacky fishnet bodysuit that I'd bought for her as a joke on Valentine's Day. It had barely fit then, and she was truly bulging out of it now. I'm sure my jaw dropped.
"You were such a good boy I thought you deserved a reward," she smirked.
Later that evening when she served us up cereal bowls full of ice cream covered in whipped cream, I had to admit I'd earned that snack.
Responsibilities.
The Morning After
The next morning, as usual, Amanda rolled over and hit snooze on the clock radio after it sounded, then trundled off in the direction of the shower. I hit snooze a couple more times before I got up. When I made it to the kitchen, I was surprised not to see her there, then I realized that I could still hear the shower running. I finally focused enough to notice the box of sugar dusted mini-donuts on the table, next to the bagels and tub of cream cheese. I shrugged and grabbed a mini-donut as I went by on my way to the coffee maker. I offered my morning thanks for automatic timers as I poured my brew, then noticed that there was a cream pitcher out beside the coffee maker. I smiled at myself, thinking how thorough Amanda always was, and poured cream in my coffee instead of my usual 1%. I checked, and sure enough my box of Special K Fiber cereal had gone missing.
By the time Amanda showed up I'd mostly finished off my first cup and a couple of more sugar-donuts. I gave my sweetie a quick peck on the cheek, and then headed off for my turn in the shower.
When I came back, she had poured me a fresh cup of coffee, thick with cream, and had left a bagel with about half an inch of cream cheese on it at my place. She was at the counter, just finishing packing our lunches. I chowed down on the bagel, and then--making sure that she noticed--ate two more of the donuts and washed them down with the coffee.
Once she had dropped me off at work, I peeked into my lunch bag. Some oversized relative of a twinkie had replaced my usual mid-morning bran muffin. Lunch included my usual sandwich, banana, and carrot sticks, but also cheese and crackers, and half a dozen cookies.
First Month Done!
After that day, our procedure was pretty well set. Amanda mostly picked out my foods, and I dutifully ate them. For the first couple of weeks it was tough at times to down so much sweet and rich food, but after that it began to get easier. After a month, in all honesty, I didn't even miss my old food choices. Not that I had become a huge fan of twinkies and fettuccini alfredo, but I no longer missed my low-fat, high-fiber breakfast cereals, my low-fat milk, or plain baked potatoes.
Mind you, after a month I did miss being able to button up my pants easily, so we went shopping. I was a little embarrassed when I realized how quickly I'd gained another ten pounds, but Amanda made it clear that she had expected as much, loved my new bulges, and was eager to take me out shopping.
I needed a 42" waist for pants now, which is the largest size that you can find in most men's stores. To my surprise, Amanda didn't take me to a regular men's store. She took me to "Mr. Bigfellow, for big and tall men."
I protested that I didn't need to shop there.
She replied with a twinkle in her eye: "They do carry your size, you know. Do you have a problem with shopping in a fat guy's store?"
I fought a brief internal battle, and decided that it would be best if I didn't have any objections. "No, I guess it's fine, I was just surprised."
"That's OK," she assured me as she gave a quick squeeze to one of my love handles. "When I had to start shopping in the fat girl stores I hated it at first, but I got used to it."
It seemed to me that she was implying that I would always be shopping in the big guy stores after this. I figured after my two months were over I'd lose most of the weight. On the other hand, I also figured there was no need to mention that until it happened, so I said nothing.
After that shopping trip, Amanda turned up the calories even more. It wasn't just junk food instead of healthier items, it was more food, lots more food.
She didn't make a big point of it, and it took me a few days to even realize how systematic she was being. She'd simply serve us each up a banana split in the evening, after we'd already had dinner and dessert. Or order in pizza. Or meet me for lunch and take us to the nearby all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet. In fact, she led in the eating, but by this point I was used to following. Day by day, it seemed we ate more and more, so that by the week before Christmas it seemed that whenever I was with her, I was eating. During one afternoon of Christmas shopping at the mall we spent $47 on food, despite eating lunch and supper at home.
Christmas Feasting
Speaking of Christmas, I admit I was just as happy that we weren't going to visit either of our families. We'd each gained at least 20 pounds since we'd last seen them, and I was faintly embarrassed. We each took as holidays the entire week between Christmas and New Years, pleased to have some vacation time together.
We finished our Christmas shopping in time to ship presents off to friends and family. After that, we still seemed to go out as much, but we'd end up at bars or restaurants instead of malls. We explored loads of eating spots around the city that we hadn't been into before, and generally enjoyed the cheer of the season.
To my surprise, on Christmas Eve day, Amanda took off to do some last minute shopping. From the size of the pile of presents waiting for me around our bonsai tree, I couldn't imagine that she needed to buy anything else for me, but she refused to explain. She banished me to the spare room to play computer games for an hour when she got home. At least she made sure I was comfortable with a plate of Christmas cookies and beer mug full of eggnog.
Celebration
On Christmas morning Amanda brought me breakfast in bed. It seemed most of Amanda's last minute shopping had been for food. She fed me until I was so stuffed I felt I couldn't even sit up. She then began to stroke my distended body, and as I grew aroused I realized that my stomach was so full I couldn't take a full breath. The sensation was a little terrifying at first, but quickly became powerfully erotic as I realized I'd literally eaten my way to a state of temporary disability.
Some time later, I found I could move again, and we shifted into the living room, and opened our presents, feeling like kids as we were dressed only in our pajamas. Granted, I had to leave the top button of my pajama bottoms undone to allow room for my swollen belly, and the seams of Amanda's pink satin pajama shorts were straining to contain the glorious swell of her derriere.
After opening our presents, we ate a large lunch, then I lay around munching on cookies and chocolates as Amanda prepared a Christmas dinner for eight. We didn't eat it all, but we put an impressive dent in it. Although all afternoon we'd quipped about how careful we'd have to be in making love that night, with how full we would be, the honest truth is that I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.
The next day we ate nearly as much again in leftovers, and still we never left the house. I took the initiative to prepare our meals that day, and showed my dedication to our pact by trying to make them even more decadent than what we'd had the day before.
The day after that, neither of us could easily button our jeans, so we hit the after-Christmas sales. In the "fat people stores," as Amanda called them. My stomach was so distended from all the food that I needed a 44" waist. Amanda moved into a women's size 24. Besides clothes, we also bought a lot of marked-down Christmas goodies, and even a couple of sharply discounted turkeys.
Besides occasional trips out for food or videos, we really didn't get out of our apartment much for the rest of the week. Not that we didn't get a fair amount of exercise, but I have to admit that mostly what we did was eat. It became a bit of an unspoken competition, to see who could ignore their stuffed belly enough to come up with the next tantalizing treat that would get us to eat anyways.
I should have felt totally disgusting. I was just about swimming in grease and sugar and salt. Instead, I felt great. My conscience had finally shut up, and I simply enjoyed the food. Well, I admit that I also enjoyed being so totally stuffed. It was exciting and erotic in a strange sort of way.
We didn't go out for New Years. Instead, we went out and bought a massive load of groceries on December 30th, and prepared it all. We aimed to start the New Year with empty cupboards. For the first part of the day, it looked like we would finish it all off with no trouble. Then we began to slow down, and by 9pm our objective looked doubtful, and we began to frantically stuff ourselves. We ended up finishing it all off by quarter after 11. To celebrate the new year, we ordered in pizza at 12:03.
The Post-New-Years Hang-Over
On New Years Day, we decided to go out for brunch. Mind you, by the time we woke up and were ready to face more food, it was close to noon. In the shower, I couldn't believe how much belly I had to wash. Getting dressed in respectable clothes, after over a week of sweat pants, pajamas, and bath robes seemed strange. I found I truly needed those 44" waist pants and all my other new "fat" clothes. I noticed when I sat down to breakfast that my belly flowed over my belt and then drooped down to hide it. There was no question that Amanda needed her size 24s either. It wasn't just her belly that wouldn't have fit in her old clothes, her new pants were none too loose in the behind either.
We returned to the same place that we had eaten on the day that this all started. I managed to finish off six loaded plates, two of them filled with nothing but cakes and pastries.
The next day, I headed back to work. I was actually kind of glad to get back, as I had to admit our level of gluttony over the course of the holidays had reached absurd proportions. Although our deal was still in effect, a large-ish, junky breakfast and lunch seemed almost Spartan after what we'd been eating. I told myself it would be a relief.
By 10am I was ravenous, and ended up eating my snack, then going down to the cafeteria for a donut. I went back for another one at eleven. After I had my bagged lunch, I was back again for an extra dessert.
After a few days, my appetite had scaled back somewhat, but only somewhat.
Back to Normal
Finally, two months were complete. I got up in the morning to find no donuts in the kitchen, and my high-fiber cereal and low-fat milk back in their places. I felt a little let down, but I told myself it was time to get back to normal, and served myself a moderate bowl of cereal, topped with only a little sugar. It hardly seemed to fill me up, but I told myself I would be fine, and went to take my shower.
A while later, as we drove into work together, I could hear my stomach grumble. We approached a donut shop, and Amanda announced "I'm going to stop in and get some coffee. Do you want anything?"
I took a deep breath, then admitted, "Yeah, I think I do. How about a chocolate glazed donut? No, make that a honey cruller. Well, maybe both."
"Are you sure?"
The words came out of my mouth like they were the most natural thing in the world. "How would you like to split a box of six?"
"Sure." she replied with a big smile, which I noticed now formed a triple chin. My stomach rumbled approvingly.
Epilogue
A couple of weeks later I was working on cleaning up the apartment one evening when Amanda had to work late. I'd drawn all of the blinds and curtains, and taken off my pants. It seemed that the waistband was making it hard to bend over to pick stuff up off the floor. All the same, I let out a grunt of effort as I got down on all fours to go fishing under the couch—something I hadn't done in ages.
Besides dust bunnies, popcorn particles, and the wrapper from an ice-cream sandwich, I fished out an old copy of Reader's Digest. It was spindled so it would lie open. I glanced at the article: "New Habits in Two Months." After I struggled back to my feet, I felt I deserved a break, so I carried the magazine into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of whole milk and pulled out a row of Oreos, and read the article. It took a couple of pages to simply say that it took one month to eliminate an old habit, and another month to build a new one. I shrugged when I finished, and reached for another cookie. I didn't have any habits that I cared to change.
