Jerry Thomas
Well-Known Member
~FFA, SSBHM, fantasy, magic, ~XWG - A woman in a Massachusetts town finds a formula for staying slim no matter how much she eats - with dramatic consequences for her formerly buff husband.
by Jerry Thomas
So how do you do it, Sybil? Cindy looked across the table in amazement as her friend stuffed another forkful of lasagne into her mouth. I mean you eat as much as you want and you still havent gained an ounce since the day you got married.
Its all a matter of portion control, Sybil replied evasively as she gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows of Luigis Ristorante Siciliano towards the gray waves of the Atlantic Ocean. A small lobster boat struggling to make progress against the wind momentarily caught her attention.
Portion control? Youve got to be kidding, Cindy replied incredulously. What portion control? Every time we come here you load up your plate with the most sinful pasta dishes, not to mention the garlic bread, dessert, and a couple of glasses of wine.
I dunno, Sybil shrugged, a mischievous grin spreading across her still lovely face. Maybe its just my metabolism. I can eat and eat and never gain. Its been like that for years. Ever since I married Bill.
I envy you, Cindy replied bitterly, as she stabbed her fork into the last bit of her chefs salad. How is Bill, by the way, she asked through a mouthful of lettuce. Is he having any luck with his diet?
Im afraid not. He starves himself and hardly eats anything, but he just cant keep off the weight. The less he eats, the more he gains, it seems. Hes already up to . . .
Yes? Cindy leaned forward, eager to hear just how fat her friends husband had become.
I really shouldnt tell you, but . . . hes over 450 pounds already. The doctor is baffled. He went down to Mass General and they ran all kinds of tests and checked his thyroid to see if it was a glandular problem. But nothing. The doctor says hes just eating too much, even though Bill and I both know that he eats like a bird.
Poor guy, Cindy said with mock sympathy. She was secretly intrigued watching Bills gradual weight gain over the years. He had become the fattest man in town by far. And he used to be so athletic back in high school. Remember? The star quarterback. The cheerleaders were always chasing after him.
Not just the cheerleaders. I had the hots for him too. Big time.
At least you finally made the catch, Cindy said. I still remember your wedding day. All the women in Salem were jealous, including me. But tell me, does his weight bother you?
Not any more. Ive gotten used to it.
But . . . Cindy took a sip of her ice water, wondering if she should ask the question that was burning on her tongue. But, how exactly do you two, you know . . .
Do it? Sybil smiled. Well, lets just say that the traditional missionary position is a thing of the past. Hed crush me, and hes gotten so roly poly that I would fall off if I tried to get on top of him. But theres other ways to skin a cat, if you just use your imagination. Theres something different about making love with a fat boy. In bed he eats like a pig, if you know what I mean.
They giggled like schoolgirls sharing a naughty secret, looking around to make sure nobody had overheard. Oh Sybil, youre so bad! It sounds like more fun than my Steve. He only knows how to do it one way. The same way. Time after time after time. Maybe we should trade, just for the fun of it. Id love to try something new. I never slept with a fat guy.
Not on your life, Sybil replied, suddenly turning more serious. I may not be a paragon of virtue, but Bill is mine. Forever. Any woman who even gets close to him had better watch out. She stared at Cindy with her green cats eyes, just to be sure Cindy got the message. Of course, that doesnt mean I cant occasionally play the field myself when the mood strikes me. Sometimes I like a hard muscular stud for a change, that is. Bill is a big sweetie, but obviously his tiny bit of hardware gets lost among all of that soft stuff.
* * *
Bill felt uncomfortable in his pilgrim costume, which had to be specially tailored to accommodate his immense size. The large square brass belt buckle cut into his overhanging stomach and when he sat down he was always afraid the black material would split at the seams against the pressure of his massive butt. To top it all off, they forced him to wear that ridiculous hat, which caused his head to sweat and made him look like the butterball turkey on the Thanksgiving Day advertisements at Stop & Shop.
But it was a job and he was grateful for that. Times were tough and he had spent nine months looking for work after being cut loose from his position as a software engineer at a fast-growing, and then fast-shrinking, dotcom company in Malden. He almost didnt get the job because he was so fat. The female director of the Salem Witch Museum, whom he had dated a few times in their high school days, felt sorry for him and hired him as a guide. In spite of his comically outsized appearance in the pilgrim outfit, he had a friendly, out-going personality and related well to the visitors.
Many of the ladies in town still remembered him as a stunningly handsome, muscular jock a real chick magnet. The kind of guy they fantasized about in their nighttime schoolgirl bedrooms as they quietly slipped their hands down between their thighs. Now they looked at him with pity, trying hard to imagine the sexy hunk hidden under all those layers of flab.
Bill waddled ahead of a small group of visitors as he explained the history of the Salem Witch Trials of 1692. The townsfolk of that era believed that so-called witches had the power to cast spells, he explained for the umpteenth time. They thought they were able to harm their enemies with magical incantations, make people fall hopelessly in love with love potions, or turn human beings into animals like cats or pigs.
A pair of gothic teenagers in the front wearing glossy black lipstick and black nail polish turned to each other and giggled. Mustve turned him into a pig, one of them whispered. Bill pretended not to hear. He was not overly sensitive and he had gotten used to the well-meaning and not so well-meaning jokes and remarks from the people around him. Even so, it hurt him to think about the man he once was and the misshapen freak he had become now.
It was half past twelve and as often happened to him around lunchtime, he had that curious feeling in his belly as it strained against his belt. He felt full, extremely full, as if he had just eaten a huge carbohydrate-rich meal. And yet, he had only had an apple and some low-fat yogurt. He was trying hard to watch his weight and restrict his calories. He hardly ate anything, but still he continued to gain. 460 goddam pounds! How did I ever let myself get this big?
He envied Sybil. She could eat like a linebacker, but she never put on weight. After twelve years of marriage, she was still as slim as the day he married her. And she was beautiful too, even if her skin had lost some of its youthful freshness. He thought of her slender face and her long, straight, jet black hair some people said she looked like Chers twin sister. She had a passionate, fiery temperament and Bill often wondered if she had a touch of the Gypsy in her.
They had never had children and probably never would. Not now. Not since he had gotten too fat to have sex. It had been almost two years since he had last penetrated her, and even then it had been a clumsy, awkward affair. She had mounted him, but his belly had become so big and round that she struggled to get her pussy close enough to the two inches of his dick that protruded out of the thick mound of crotch fat that held it captive. He had thrust a few times, barely entering her, and then had given up in frustration. So now he was forced to find a workaround, as they used to say when they had a hardware problem in the IT department at work. Now his mouth and tongue were entrusted with the job while little Willie remained in involuntary retirement. He learned to use them skillfully to bring Sybil to a toe-curling climax. Every time -- without fail.
(to be continued)
How to Stay Slender Forever
by Jerry Thomas
So how do you do it, Sybil? Cindy looked across the table in amazement as her friend stuffed another forkful of lasagne into her mouth. I mean you eat as much as you want and you still havent gained an ounce since the day you got married.
Its all a matter of portion control, Sybil replied evasively as she gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows of Luigis Ristorante Siciliano towards the gray waves of the Atlantic Ocean. A small lobster boat struggling to make progress against the wind momentarily caught her attention.
Portion control? Youve got to be kidding, Cindy replied incredulously. What portion control? Every time we come here you load up your plate with the most sinful pasta dishes, not to mention the garlic bread, dessert, and a couple of glasses of wine.
I dunno, Sybil shrugged, a mischievous grin spreading across her still lovely face. Maybe its just my metabolism. I can eat and eat and never gain. Its been like that for years. Ever since I married Bill.
I envy you, Cindy replied bitterly, as she stabbed her fork into the last bit of her chefs salad. How is Bill, by the way, she asked through a mouthful of lettuce. Is he having any luck with his diet?
Im afraid not. He starves himself and hardly eats anything, but he just cant keep off the weight. The less he eats, the more he gains, it seems. Hes already up to . . .
Yes? Cindy leaned forward, eager to hear just how fat her friends husband had become.
I really shouldnt tell you, but . . . hes over 450 pounds already. The doctor is baffled. He went down to Mass General and they ran all kinds of tests and checked his thyroid to see if it was a glandular problem. But nothing. The doctor says hes just eating too much, even though Bill and I both know that he eats like a bird.
Poor guy, Cindy said with mock sympathy. She was secretly intrigued watching Bills gradual weight gain over the years. He had become the fattest man in town by far. And he used to be so athletic back in high school. Remember? The star quarterback. The cheerleaders were always chasing after him.
Not just the cheerleaders. I had the hots for him too. Big time.
At least you finally made the catch, Cindy said. I still remember your wedding day. All the women in Salem were jealous, including me. But tell me, does his weight bother you?
Not any more. Ive gotten used to it.
But . . . Cindy took a sip of her ice water, wondering if she should ask the question that was burning on her tongue. But, how exactly do you two, you know . . .
Do it? Sybil smiled. Well, lets just say that the traditional missionary position is a thing of the past. Hed crush me, and hes gotten so roly poly that I would fall off if I tried to get on top of him. But theres other ways to skin a cat, if you just use your imagination. Theres something different about making love with a fat boy. In bed he eats like a pig, if you know what I mean.
They giggled like schoolgirls sharing a naughty secret, looking around to make sure nobody had overheard. Oh Sybil, youre so bad! It sounds like more fun than my Steve. He only knows how to do it one way. The same way. Time after time after time. Maybe we should trade, just for the fun of it. Id love to try something new. I never slept with a fat guy.
Not on your life, Sybil replied, suddenly turning more serious. I may not be a paragon of virtue, but Bill is mine. Forever. Any woman who even gets close to him had better watch out. She stared at Cindy with her green cats eyes, just to be sure Cindy got the message. Of course, that doesnt mean I cant occasionally play the field myself when the mood strikes me. Sometimes I like a hard muscular stud for a change, that is. Bill is a big sweetie, but obviously his tiny bit of hardware gets lost among all of that soft stuff.
* * *
Bill felt uncomfortable in his pilgrim costume, which had to be specially tailored to accommodate his immense size. The large square brass belt buckle cut into his overhanging stomach and when he sat down he was always afraid the black material would split at the seams against the pressure of his massive butt. To top it all off, they forced him to wear that ridiculous hat, which caused his head to sweat and made him look like the butterball turkey on the Thanksgiving Day advertisements at Stop & Shop.
But it was a job and he was grateful for that. Times were tough and he had spent nine months looking for work after being cut loose from his position as a software engineer at a fast-growing, and then fast-shrinking, dotcom company in Malden. He almost didnt get the job because he was so fat. The female director of the Salem Witch Museum, whom he had dated a few times in their high school days, felt sorry for him and hired him as a guide. In spite of his comically outsized appearance in the pilgrim outfit, he had a friendly, out-going personality and related well to the visitors.
Many of the ladies in town still remembered him as a stunningly handsome, muscular jock a real chick magnet. The kind of guy they fantasized about in their nighttime schoolgirl bedrooms as they quietly slipped their hands down between their thighs. Now they looked at him with pity, trying hard to imagine the sexy hunk hidden under all those layers of flab.
Bill waddled ahead of a small group of visitors as he explained the history of the Salem Witch Trials of 1692. The townsfolk of that era believed that so-called witches had the power to cast spells, he explained for the umpteenth time. They thought they were able to harm their enemies with magical incantations, make people fall hopelessly in love with love potions, or turn human beings into animals like cats or pigs.
A pair of gothic teenagers in the front wearing glossy black lipstick and black nail polish turned to each other and giggled. Mustve turned him into a pig, one of them whispered. Bill pretended not to hear. He was not overly sensitive and he had gotten used to the well-meaning and not so well-meaning jokes and remarks from the people around him. Even so, it hurt him to think about the man he once was and the misshapen freak he had become now.
It was half past twelve and as often happened to him around lunchtime, he had that curious feeling in his belly as it strained against his belt. He felt full, extremely full, as if he had just eaten a huge carbohydrate-rich meal. And yet, he had only had an apple and some low-fat yogurt. He was trying hard to watch his weight and restrict his calories. He hardly ate anything, but still he continued to gain. 460 goddam pounds! How did I ever let myself get this big?
He envied Sybil. She could eat like a linebacker, but she never put on weight. After twelve years of marriage, she was still as slim as the day he married her. And she was beautiful too, even if her skin had lost some of its youthful freshness. He thought of her slender face and her long, straight, jet black hair some people said she looked like Chers twin sister. She had a passionate, fiery temperament and Bill often wondered if she had a touch of the Gypsy in her.
They had never had children and probably never would. Not now. Not since he had gotten too fat to have sex. It had been almost two years since he had last penetrated her, and even then it had been a clumsy, awkward affair. She had mounted him, but his belly had become so big and round that she struggled to get her pussy close enough to the two inches of his dick that protruded out of the thick mound of crotch fat that held it captive. He had thrust a few times, barely entering her, and then had given up in frustration. So now he was forced to find a workaround, as they used to say when they had a hardware problem in the IT department at work. Now his mouth and tongue were entrusted with the job while little Willie remained in involuntary retirement. He learned to use them skillfully to bring Sybil to a toe-curling climax. Every time -- without fail.
(to be continued)
