WG Story Drone
Well-Known Member
~BBW, ~BHM, Encouragement, ~MWG A model-thin former city dweller grows into her new suburban digs.
"The Koi, a type of goldfish from China, will grow as large as its container and food supply will permit, making them the ideal fish to ornament your landscaping project," said the host of the home-gardening show as he flipped the channel.
He flipped back and saw a time elapsed sequence of a tiny goldfish growing into a huge behemoth of a fish, almost a foot long and nearly as wide.
His lithe 5'8", 110lb wife skipped across their NYC studio apartment in front of the TV screen, naked and dripping wet from the shower, and he had an idea.
"Honey, I'm tired of this tiny apartment. Let's go look for a house."
Eight weeks later, they had bought an old 12-room house on the outskirts of Morristown, near to a Spanish neighborhood and the restaurant district.
That summer they settled in slowly to suburban life. He commuted to work every day, and she, having been laid off, stayed home to get the house together. Painting and prepping the house in little more than a bikini top and a pair of his old lacrosse shorts, she ran about half naked and unconcerned for appearance. Unpacking was a bore, and to do the simplest errand you had to get in the car and drive. Walking around the neighborhood was fun for her, as she had studied Spanish in college and chatted up the neighborhood women in shops and on the street, none of whom were strangers to rice and beans. The few stores within walking distance were a bakery, a diner and a butcher shop, and she visited each a few times a week just for the companionship.
On weekends, he insisted on doing the chores around the house while she worked on her tan. He would mix up a vat of frozen daiquiris and keep her glass filled from late Saturday mornings till bedtime Sunday nights. His chores included a weekly trip to Costco, where he shopped to keep their new walk-in larder filled with snacks and treats. For evening and weekend meals, he would barbeque huge steaks or order in takeout from one of several excellent restaurants nearby. They invited their new neighbors to their house for a Labor Day cookout, starting at noon and ending around midnight, during which time he manned the grill and she picked and nibbled as she kept the serving trays full. It was a fun time for both of them: with summer ending, her Spanish had improved immensely; she felt at home in the new neighborhood; and he was starting to see the effects of her swimming in a larger fishbowl.
"Oh, my god. I weigh 135 pounds," she said as she stepped off the scale that Tuesday. "I've gained 25 pounds since we moved in at the end of July." She moved in front of the full-length mirror to reconnoiter the damage.
"The floor is probably crooked," he said with a smirk. "Let me check." Walking up behind her, he reached around her in a hug and ran his hands over her body, feeling the effects of his environmental experiment and liking it. She felt fuller, curvier than her model thin body had been, particularly at the hips, breasts and belly. He got aroused; so did she, and he took her from behind right there in front of the mirror, elbows on her knees.
"I need another shower, love," she said, sated, and wondering.
Through the early fall, her work on the house abated as the initial workload diminished, and she had more time to herself. Having made some friends in the neighborhood, she spent her days either hosting or visiting other homes, having lunch with the women. When she was with the Latin women, she felt thin and didn't think twice about her weight. She kicked around in his fatigue pants and his sweatshirts and sweaters, nothing constricting. She started taking naps after lunch, and, when she woke, she would prepare dinner for him, nibbling on hors d'oeuvres while she cooked and waited for him to arrive.
She would tell him about her day; as they ate, he would ask questions and linger over the meal, giving her time for seconds and thirds. Many days, he would bring a special dessert home from the city - one of her favorites - butter cookies from The Black Hound, cannoli from Venieros, or giant rice crispy treats from Taylor's. Halloween in a trick-or-treat neighborhood meant that the last two weeks of October saw candy wrappers all around the house, and a binge on the leftovers on November 1. Each time they had sex, he found a new fold, a softer area, and a better bounce, making him hornier than ever.
Veteran's Day would give him a three-day weekend, so they decided to invite some friends out to visit for the weekend now that the house was in order. With only ten days to get ready and wanting to look great in her new surroundings, she pulled out her fall wardrobe from last year in NYC, to decide what to wear. She stood in front of the full-length for the first time since Labor Day, naked, and was amazed - she didn't recognize herself.
Gone was her flat bellied, perky-breasted body that had turned so many heads when they walked down West Broadway last spring before the move, replaced by a body she thought she might see somewhere between the Greek statues and the Old Masters at the Met: not quite Rubenesque, but certainly a different definition of beautiful than she was used to chasing. And she thought, "Wow, I'm even more beautiful - my breasts are huge compared to what they were; I have hips; my legs are still long but much more shapely; and I have an ass that will hold up my husband's pants. Actually, it's been a while since I've worn my own clothes, hasn't it? And, look, when I turn sideways, I've got a belly."
She tried on some of last fall's clothes, knowing full well what the result would be. Sure enough: waistbands didn't meet; bras cut; and shirts didn't pull down to cover her gut, instead gathered along her sides and front, folding her skin into little rolls when she moved.
Most women would have cried, but she knew that, stripped of her clothes, she looked more luscious than she ever had before, and the right new rags would only help to accentuate her new beauty. She had no intention of hiding her new body, but needed to get an idea of her new dimensions to shop properly.
"First, the scale. Ohmigod - 157 pounds! I had no idea!" she blurted out loud. Grabbing a tape measure. "Measurements: bust, 37; waist, 29; hips, 38 - that's a big jump from last March's 34-22-34!" She was so excited! She stood there in front of the mirror staring, running her hands all over her body again and again, pinching and squeezing everywhere, mesmerized by her new body.
Right at that point, she heard the kitchen door slam; he was home from work. "Honey, are you here?" he said.
She quickly grabbed a towel and wrapped herself in it, ran to the stairs and said, "Just getting in the shower." And she ran to the bathroom and closed the door.
Hearing her as he ran up the stairs, he walked to the closet to take off his work clothes and change into something more comfortable; he saw the scale tape measure and the pile of clothes that she had been trying on. As he changed his clothes he asked her through the bathroom door, "So, how about we go out to eat tonight?"
"Great idea, what were you thinking of?" she asked, wanting to blurt out that all she wanted to do was eat and have sex for the rest of her life.
"I was thinking Casa de Pasta, but since you've got out all your fall clothes, how about somewhere fancier?" he asked coyly, knowing that nothing strewn about him on the floor stood a chance of surviving a walk down the stairs without bursting at the seams if she were able to squeeze into something.
"Noooo - Casa De Pasta is perfect, I've been dreaming of Italian all day! Double portions, thick gooey cheese, great wine - PERFECT!!! But I'm really hungry now, could you fix us a snack while I get myself together?" she asked, wanting him downstairs - she needed to release at least some of the sexual tension she had built up over the last hour.
"Okay," he went downstairs, thinking, "This is great!!! I haven't had to say a word, I just had to get her out of the city where everyone is so weight conscious!"
He opened the fridge, found a stick of soprosatta, a pound of fresh mozarella, and some roasted peppers. He cut these up into pieces, stacked one of each on Ritz crackers, drizzed olive oil over them, and opened a bottle of chianti, pouring a glass. He took the platter and the wine back upstairs, and put it on her dresser, where it would be in easy reach for her as she got dressed. "Honey, I'm putting some antipasta here in the bedroom," he said through the door again, this time hearing her pant. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, biting her lip so he wouldn't hear her getting off. She shut off the water, dried off and went to the bedroom, where he was waiting.
They chitchatted about their day, she popping antipasta-cracker treats one after the other, mowing through the platter. He was so turned on watching her from behind, her whole body jiggling as she towel dried her hair. He said, "I'd forgotten about these leather pants. Would you wear them tonight with that suede midriff shirt you bought last year - you looked so hot in that outfit."
She didn't know what to do. If he saw her struggling into those clothes, the smallest outfit of the bunch and the least likely to stretch, he might get turned off before she bought the new clothes she knew would make him overlook her weight gain. "For Casa de Pasta? Strictly jeans and a top - that outfit is way too dressy," she said, hoping to deter him from pursuing the idea further.
"Oh, so what? When everyone there sees you in it, they'll drop their jaws."
"You only know the half of it," she mumbled.
"What?" he said.
"Out of the question, what if I get sauce on the suede?" she said, recovering quickly.
"Okay, try it on quickly for me then. I want the mental image through dinner." Checkmate - he thought to himself: he wasn't letting her off that easily.
"Oh, alright," she quickly looked around. "Go get the wine downstairs, would you - if you're conjuring mental images, I want to be relaxed when we get home, and I've only half a glass."
He went downstairs to the kitchen, slapping her on the ass as he walked by.
She quickly picked up the pants, stuck her foot in the first leg, then the second, and pulled them up quickly while sucking in her gut in one motion. Getting the button done at the waist as her face turned beet red, she went to do the zipper, at which point the seam split up the back, with an audible tear of ripping leather. When he got back, she stood there, her ass squeezing through the tear and a thick jellyroll hanging over the waist band all the way around her body - and she started to cry.
He started to laugh. "Don't cry, don't cry, I'm sorry - I knew they wouldn't fit. I just wanted to see how much you've grown. Put on the top; I still want the mental picture with me through dinner."
"You mean you knew I was this fat," she sobbed "and you're not angry?" The top, which was just a diamond shaped piece of suede with ties for the neck and her back, cut into sides and creased under her boobs, which looked as if they would pop out if she moved.
"You've gained a little weight - let's face it, you were too thin before; now you're normal," he said, popping a cracker into her mouth. "We're married, you've a big house, and I've got a great job - pressure is off, just enjoy yourself. Now get done, because I'm starving and I'm going down to call for a private table at the restaurant so we're not disturbed." He topped off her glass of wine from the bottle and went downstairs again. She could hear him on the phone.
She took off the shredded clothes, put on a pair of his jeans and one of his oxford shirts, fixed her makeup and hair, finishing the last of the crackers as she did.
When they got in the car, he asked, "Honey, did you remember to bring down the rest of the antipasta when you came down, so the dog doesn't get into it while we're out?" One pound of cheese, half a pound of sausage, a jar of peppers, and a sleeve of Ritz were on that platter when I brought it up, he though to himself.
"Don't worry about it," was all she responded, winking at him.
They got to the restaurant and were shown to a table in a dark corner. He ordered mozarella in carrozza for them to start and another bottle of wine. She told him of her hour before he arrived, trying on clothes and weighing and measuring herself. She told him of the mix of guilt and arousal she felt at having gained forty-seven pounds in less than three months, and how she knew things weren't about to reverse themselves - she'd gotten so far off her old track she couldn't possibly find her way back, she said. She was going to buy new clothes, and face the music when her friends showed up for Veterans Day weekend.
He held her hand, looking into her fuller face, and comforted her, telling her that she was more beautiful than ever, and that she shouldn't let other people determine how she felt about herself, himself included. He was lucky to have such a beautiful wife, especially one that thought so much of how he thought of her. She slipped off her shoe and put her foot in his crotch, just as the waiter came to the table with their appetizer.
"Go ahead dig in," he said, "it's your favorite."
"We're sharing this, aren't we?"
"I'll have a little."
She dug in. He slid around the booth so that he was next to her, rubbing her fat belly as she ate. Their meal came out, fetuccini alfredo with grilled chicken and artichokes for her, while he had linguine con vogole, another of her favorites. He fed her a taste of his, and put a big portion from his plate on her bread plate for her to eat after her meal. When he was sure the waiter would be away for a while, he slid his hand from her belly down into her underwear, and teased her, whispering, "Don't go shopping until just before the guests arrive."
She looked at him shyly through her lashes, which from where he was showed him her developing double chin. "Yes, it's okay," he whispered softly. She dropped her fork in her plate, threw her arms around him and kissed him long and hard. They finished dinner, ordered three desserts between them, and were the last to leave the restaurant. They pulled the car under some trees in the back of the parking lot and went at it like kids on a prom night, not being able to wait til they got home.
That weekend, he double stocked the larder with treats and frozen meals, he cooked around the clock, and fed her throughout the day and night, breaking constantly for quick bouts of sex. By late Sunday night, she had eaten five bags of double stuff Oreos, three pies, three burgers, two large pizzas, ten waffles with butter and syrup, a milkshake, a turkey club sandwich with bacon, Swiss and Russian dressing, $50 worth of Chinese food, two quarts of half and half four liters of ginger ale and three bottles of wine.
When they woke on Monday, she rubbed him to attention, saying that she wanted him, but first she wanted to weigh in. They ran to the scale, next to the full-length mirror in the walk-in closet. "171," she said, "fourteen pounds in two and a half days."
"You'll lose much of that when you go to the bathroom. Go in and empty out and we'll weigh you again afterwards." While she was out, he called his office and put himself on vacation for the week.
"Okay - ready?" she said, and ran out of the bathroom naked, a towel clipped around her neck like a cape, her long hair fluttering behind her as she ran, bouncing and jiggling back to the scale.
"167 and a half - still pretty good, huh?" She stood in front of the mirror, looking at herself; he sat on the bed where he could see her forward reflection in the mirror while looking at her from behind.
What they both saw was that with the extra ten pounds she had blossomed. Her shape was a severe hourglass, with her breasts and hips plumped way out, but most of the extra weight had ended up in her belly, which was for the first time ever really protruding below her navel, and a roll of fat was perched just above it. He took her measurements: "39-36-40."
"Put on some underwear," he said; when she did, it cut into her belly, the extra support they gave her lower belly causing the roll to droop over the elastic. The underwear also divided her hips from her love handles, showing that she hadn't just gotten bigger, she was definitely fatter. Her face had gotten fuller as well, and what had been the start of a second chin Friday night had matured to a full-fledged roll. He was so turned on, he came up from behind her, squeezing her hard on the ass and belly, moving his hands up to her breasts, cupping and lifting them, and then letting them go so that they bounced. He rubbed her clit from behind as he continued squeezing the fat on various parts of her body and kissing her, all the while looking at her in the mirror. When she was wet, he slid himself in and pounded away watching her ass jiggle as they did it dog style on the floor of the closet.
"Breakfast will be ready in a half an hour," he said when they were done. He went down to fix her a feast that would last another six and a half days.
The following Sunday after a large brunch and a round of sex, they decided it was time for the final weigh in and measurements before shopping for new clothes. "Measurement first - then you can guess my weight."
"What if I guess correctly?"
"Then you get to feed me like last week for the next two weeks until Thanksgiving; if you guess wrong I get to demand something of you and you have to obey."
"Bet let's see - bust 44", waist wow - 40", hips 48" - oh my god, feel that belly!" he said, lifting her now substantial paunch with both hands, "and your love handles - I can pinch a good four inches between my fingers, and there is still another roll on top. Oh my god - you've had to have gained another fifteen pounds this week. I'm guessing 182." With that, she pushed his hands aside and stepped on the scale. The needle whirred up, finally settling.
"Well, what does it say?" he asked, looking forward to canceling the friends' visit and getting right in on a two week feed fest.
"187 - eighteen pounds, my dear and I WIN!!!" she did a little naked jiggling dance, holding his erection between both hands, teasing him.
"Well, it's good that you have vacation accumulated, because OUR feasting will begin today and not end until the NEW YEAR - you're going to start eating along with me."
Six weeks later, at a friend's New Year's party in Manhattan, he walked in to shocked gasps - with an additional 58 pounds added to his formerly six foot, 175lb, 32-inch waist frame, he looked positively portly at 233 with a 46-inch waist, but people were more shocked to see her, the former model, positively Raphaelian now. She sported a low cut dress that showed off her 50 double D's, it bound across her 48-inch belly and pinched across her 55-inch rear.
Since Veterans Day, she had gained another 82 pounds, a little under two pounds a day, and a total of 159 in just under 5 months. They chatted at the door with folks from their past who all smiled or smirked and said that suburban life was certainly agreeing with them. He left her for a minute, beaming with all the self-assurance she had at 110 pounds, to get rid of their coats.
Dropping their coats in the bedroom, he saw that the TV had been left on, and the home improvement channel was showing a re-run of the episode about the Koi pond. His friend Rob walked in at that point and said, "You know, we've been thinking of moving out to the suburbs - what do you think of it so far?"
"You don't know the half of it..."
The Koi Pond
By Anonymous
(Migrated from the Weight Room Anonymous Archives)
By Anonymous
(Migrated from the Weight Room Anonymous Archives)
"The Koi, a type of goldfish from China, will grow as large as its container and food supply will permit, making them the ideal fish to ornament your landscaping project," said the host of the home-gardening show as he flipped the channel.
He flipped back and saw a time elapsed sequence of a tiny goldfish growing into a huge behemoth of a fish, almost a foot long and nearly as wide.
His lithe 5'8", 110lb wife skipped across their NYC studio apartment in front of the TV screen, naked and dripping wet from the shower, and he had an idea.
"Honey, I'm tired of this tiny apartment. Let's go look for a house."
Eight weeks later, they had bought an old 12-room house on the outskirts of Morristown, near to a Spanish neighborhood and the restaurant district.
That summer they settled in slowly to suburban life. He commuted to work every day, and she, having been laid off, stayed home to get the house together. Painting and prepping the house in little more than a bikini top and a pair of his old lacrosse shorts, she ran about half naked and unconcerned for appearance. Unpacking was a bore, and to do the simplest errand you had to get in the car and drive. Walking around the neighborhood was fun for her, as she had studied Spanish in college and chatted up the neighborhood women in shops and on the street, none of whom were strangers to rice and beans. The few stores within walking distance were a bakery, a diner and a butcher shop, and she visited each a few times a week just for the companionship.
On weekends, he insisted on doing the chores around the house while she worked on her tan. He would mix up a vat of frozen daiquiris and keep her glass filled from late Saturday mornings till bedtime Sunday nights. His chores included a weekly trip to Costco, where he shopped to keep their new walk-in larder filled with snacks and treats. For evening and weekend meals, he would barbeque huge steaks or order in takeout from one of several excellent restaurants nearby. They invited their new neighbors to their house for a Labor Day cookout, starting at noon and ending around midnight, during which time he manned the grill and she picked and nibbled as she kept the serving trays full. It was a fun time for both of them: with summer ending, her Spanish had improved immensely; she felt at home in the new neighborhood; and he was starting to see the effects of her swimming in a larger fishbowl.
"Oh, my god. I weigh 135 pounds," she said as she stepped off the scale that Tuesday. "I've gained 25 pounds since we moved in at the end of July." She moved in front of the full-length mirror to reconnoiter the damage.
"The floor is probably crooked," he said with a smirk. "Let me check." Walking up behind her, he reached around her in a hug and ran his hands over her body, feeling the effects of his environmental experiment and liking it. She felt fuller, curvier than her model thin body had been, particularly at the hips, breasts and belly. He got aroused; so did she, and he took her from behind right there in front of the mirror, elbows on her knees.
"I need another shower, love," she said, sated, and wondering.
Through the early fall, her work on the house abated as the initial workload diminished, and she had more time to herself. Having made some friends in the neighborhood, she spent her days either hosting or visiting other homes, having lunch with the women. When she was with the Latin women, she felt thin and didn't think twice about her weight. She kicked around in his fatigue pants and his sweatshirts and sweaters, nothing constricting. She started taking naps after lunch, and, when she woke, she would prepare dinner for him, nibbling on hors d'oeuvres while she cooked and waited for him to arrive.
She would tell him about her day; as they ate, he would ask questions and linger over the meal, giving her time for seconds and thirds. Many days, he would bring a special dessert home from the city - one of her favorites - butter cookies from The Black Hound, cannoli from Venieros, or giant rice crispy treats from Taylor's. Halloween in a trick-or-treat neighborhood meant that the last two weeks of October saw candy wrappers all around the house, and a binge on the leftovers on November 1. Each time they had sex, he found a new fold, a softer area, and a better bounce, making him hornier than ever.
Veteran's Day would give him a three-day weekend, so they decided to invite some friends out to visit for the weekend now that the house was in order. With only ten days to get ready and wanting to look great in her new surroundings, she pulled out her fall wardrobe from last year in NYC, to decide what to wear. She stood in front of the full-length for the first time since Labor Day, naked, and was amazed - she didn't recognize herself.
Gone was her flat bellied, perky-breasted body that had turned so many heads when they walked down West Broadway last spring before the move, replaced by a body she thought she might see somewhere between the Greek statues and the Old Masters at the Met: not quite Rubenesque, but certainly a different definition of beautiful than she was used to chasing. And she thought, "Wow, I'm even more beautiful - my breasts are huge compared to what they were; I have hips; my legs are still long but much more shapely; and I have an ass that will hold up my husband's pants. Actually, it's been a while since I've worn my own clothes, hasn't it? And, look, when I turn sideways, I've got a belly."
She tried on some of last fall's clothes, knowing full well what the result would be. Sure enough: waistbands didn't meet; bras cut; and shirts didn't pull down to cover her gut, instead gathered along her sides and front, folding her skin into little rolls when she moved.
Most women would have cried, but she knew that, stripped of her clothes, she looked more luscious than she ever had before, and the right new rags would only help to accentuate her new beauty. She had no intention of hiding her new body, but needed to get an idea of her new dimensions to shop properly.
"First, the scale. Ohmigod - 157 pounds! I had no idea!" she blurted out loud. Grabbing a tape measure. "Measurements: bust, 37; waist, 29; hips, 38 - that's a big jump from last March's 34-22-34!" She was so excited! She stood there in front of the mirror staring, running her hands all over her body again and again, pinching and squeezing everywhere, mesmerized by her new body.
Right at that point, she heard the kitchen door slam; he was home from work. "Honey, are you here?" he said.
She quickly grabbed a towel and wrapped herself in it, ran to the stairs and said, "Just getting in the shower." And she ran to the bathroom and closed the door.
Hearing her as he ran up the stairs, he walked to the closet to take off his work clothes and change into something more comfortable; he saw the scale tape measure and the pile of clothes that she had been trying on. As he changed his clothes he asked her through the bathroom door, "So, how about we go out to eat tonight?"
"Great idea, what were you thinking of?" she asked, wanting to blurt out that all she wanted to do was eat and have sex for the rest of her life.
"I was thinking Casa de Pasta, but since you've got out all your fall clothes, how about somewhere fancier?" he asked coyly, knowing that nothing strewn about him on the floor stood a chance of surviving a walk down the stairs without bursting at the seams if she were able to squeeze into something.
"Noooo - Casa De Pasta is perfect, I've been dreaming of Italian all day! Double portions, thick gooey cheese, great wine - PERFECT!!! But I'm really hungry now, could you fix us a snack while I get myself together?" she asked, wanting him downstairs - she needed to release at least some of the sexual tension she had built up over the last hour.
"Okay," he went downstairs, thinking, "This is great!!! I haven't had to say a word, I just had to get her out of the city where everyone is so weight conscious!"
He opened the fridge, found a stick of soprosatta, a pound of fresh mozarella, and some roasted peppers. He cut these up into pieces, stacked one of each on Ritz crackers, drizzed olive oil over them, and opened a bottle of chianti, pouring a glass. He took the platter and the wine back upstairs, and put it on her dresser, where it would be in easy reach for her as she got dressed. "Honey, I'm putting some antipasta here in the bedroom," he said through the door again, this time hearing her pant. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, biting her lip so he wouldn't hear her getting off. She shut off the water, dried off and went to the bedroom, where he was waiting.
They chitchatted about their day, she popping antipasta-cracker treats one after the other, mowing through the platter. He was so turned on watching her from behind, her whole body jiggling as she towel dried her hair. He said, "I'd forgotten about these leather pants. Would you wear them tonight with that suede midriff shirt you bought last year - you looked so hot in that outfit."
She didn't know what to do. If he saw her struggling into those clothes, the smallest outfit of the bunch and the least likely to stretch, he might get turned off before she bought the new clothes she knew would make him overlook her weight gain. "For Casa de Pasta? Strictly jeans and a top - that outfit is way too dressy," she said, hoping to deter him from pursuing the idea further.
"Oh, so what? When everyone there sees you in it, they'll drop their jaws."
"You only know the half of it," she mumbled.
"What?" he said.
"Out of the question, what if I get sauce on the suede?" she said, recovering quickly.
"Okay, try it on quickly for me then. I want the mental image through dinner." Checkmate - he thought to himself: he wasn't letting her off that easily.
"Oh, alright," she quickly looked around. "Go get the wine downstairs, would you - if you're conjuring mental images, I want to be relaxed when we get home, and I've only half a glass."
He went downstairs to the kitchen, slapping her on the ass as he walked by.
She quickly picked up the pants, stuck her foot in the first leg, then the second, and pulled them up quickly while sucking in her gut in one motion. Getting the button done at the waist as her face turned beet red, she went to do the zipper, at which point the seam split up the back, with an audible tear of ripping leather. When he got back, she stood there, her ass squeezing through the tear and a thick jellyroll hanging over the waist band all the way around her body - and she started to cry.
He started to laugh. "Don't cry, don't cry, I'm sorry - I knew they wouldn't fit. I just wanted to see how much you've grown. Put on the top; I still want the mental picture with me through dinner."
"You mean you knew I was this fat," she sobbed "and you're not angry?" The top, which was just a diamond shaped piece of suede with ties for the neck and her back, cut into sides and creased under her boobs, which looked as if they would pop out if she moved.
"You've gained a little weight - let's face it, you were too thin before; now you're normal," he said, popping a cracker into her mouth. "We're married, you've a big house, and I've got a great job - pressure is off, just enjoy yourself. Now get done, because I'm starving and I'm going down to call for a private table at the restaurant so we're not disturbed." He topped off her glass of wine from the bottle and went downstairs again. She could hear him on the phone.
She took off the shredded clothes, put on a pair of his jeans and one of his oxford shirts, fixed her makeup and hair, finishing the last of the crackers as she did.
When they got in the car, he asked, "Honey, did you remember to bring down the rest of the antipasta when you came down, so the dog doesn't get into it while we're out?" One pound of cheese, half a pound of sausage, a jar of peppers, and a sleeve of Ritz were on that platter when I brought it up, he though to himself.
"Don't worry about it," was all she responded, winking at him.
They got to the restaurant and were shown to a table in a dark corner. He ordered mozarella in carrozza for them to start and another bottle of wine. She told him of her hour before he arrived, trying on clothes and weighing and measuring herself. She told him of the mix of guilt and arousal she felt at having gained forty-seven pounds in less than three months, and how she knew things weren't about to reverse themselves - she'd gotten so far off her old track she couldn't possibly find her way back, she said. She was going to buy new clothes, and face the music when her friends showed up for Veterans Day weekend.
He held her hand, looking into her fuller face, and comforted her, telling her that she was more beautiful than ever, and that she shouldn't let other people determine how she felt about herself, himself included. He was lucky to have such a beautiful wife, especially one that thought so much of how he thought of her. She slipped off her shoe and put her foot in his crotch, just as the waiter came to the table with their appetizer.
"Go ahead dig in," he said, "it's your favorite."
"We're sharing this, aren't we?"
"I'll have a little."
She dug in. He slid around the booth so that he was next to her, rubbing her fat belly as she ate. Their meal came out, fetuccini alfredo with grilled chicken and artichokes for her, while he had linguine con vogole, another of her favorites. He fed her a taste of his, and put a big portion from his plate on her bread plate for her to eat after her meal. When he was sure the waiter would be away for a while, he slid his hand from her belly down into her underwear, and teased her, whispering, "Don't go shopping until just before the guests arrive."
She looked at him shyly through her lashes, which from where he was showed him her developing double chin. "Yes, it's okay," he whispered softly. She dropped her fork in her plate, threw her arms around him and kissed him long and hard. They finished dinner, ordered three desserts between them, and were the last to leave the restaurant. They pulled the car under some trees in the back of the parking lot and went at it like kids on a prom night, not being able to wait til they got home.
That weekend, he double stocked the larder with treats and frozen meals, he cooked around the clock, and fed her throughout the day and night, breaking constantly for quick bouts of sex. By late Sunday night, she had eaten five bags of double stuff Oreos, three pies, three burgers, two large pizzas, ten waffles with butter and syrup, a milkshake, a turkey club sandwich with bacon, Swiss and Russian dressing, $50 worth of Chinese food, two quarts of half and half four liters of ginger ale and three bottles of wine.
When they woke on Monday, she rubbed him to attention, saying that she wanted him, but first she wanted to weigh in. They ran to the scale, next to the full-length mirror in the walk-in closet. "171," she said, "fourteen pounds in two and a half days."
"You'll lose much of that when you go to the bathroom. Go in and empty out and we'll weigh you again afterwards." While she was out, he called his office and put himself on vacation for the week.
"Okay - ready?" she said, and ran out of the bathroom naked, a towel clipped around her neck like a cape, her long hair fluttering behind her as she ran, bouncing and jiggling back to the scale.
"167 and a half - still pretty good, huh?" She stood in front of the mirror, looking at herself; he sat on the bed where he could see her forward reflection in the mirror while looking at her from behind.
What they both saw was that with the extra ten pounds she had blossomed. Her shape was a severe hourglass, with her breasts and hips plumped way out, but most of the extra weight had ended up in her belly, which was for the first time ever really protruding below her navel, and a roll of fat was perched just above it. He took her measurements: "39-36-40."
"Put on some underwear," he said; when she did, it cut into her belly, the extra support they gave her lower belly causing the roll to droop over the elastic. The underwear also divided her hips from her love handles, showing that she hadn't just gotten bigger, she was definitely fatter. Her face had gotten fuller as well, and what had been the start of a second chin Friday night had matured to a full-fledged roll. He was so turned on, he came up from behind her, squeezing her hard on the ass and belly, moving his hands up to her breasts, cupping and lifting them, and then letting them go so that they bounced. He rubbed her clit from behind as he continued squeezing the fat on various parts of her body and kissing her, all the while looking at her in the mirror. When she was wet, he slid himself in and pounded away watching her ass jiggle as they did it dog style on the floor of the closet.
"Breakfast will be ready in a half an hour," he said when they were done. He went down to fix her a feast that would last another six and a half days.
The following Sunday after a large brunch and a round of sex, they decided it was time for the final weigh in and measurements before shopping for new clothes. "Measurement first - then you can guess my weight."
"What if I guess correctly?"
"Then you get to feed me like last week for the next two weeks until Thanksgiving; if you guess wrong I get to demand something of you and you have to obey."
"Bet let's see - bust 44", waist wow - 40", hips 48" - oh my god, feel that belly!" he said, lifting her now substantial paunch with both hands, "and your love handles - I can pinch a good four inches between my fingers, and there is still another roll on top. Oh my god - you've had to have gained another fifteen pounds this week. I'm guessing 182." With that, she pushed his hands aside and stepped on the scale. The needle whirred up, finally settling.
"Well, what does it say?" he asked, looking forward to canceling the friends' visit and getting right in on a two week feed fest.
"187 - eighteen pounds, my dear and I WIN!!!" she did a little naked jiggling dance, holding his erection between both hands, teasing him.
"Well, it's good that you have vacation accumulated, because OUR feasting will begin today and not end until the NEW YEAR - you're going to start eating along with me."
Six weeks later, at a friend's New Year's party in Manhattan, he walked in to shocked gasps - with an additional 58 pounds added to his formerly six foot, 175lb, 32-inch waist frame, he looked positively portly at 233 with a 46-inch waist, but people were more shocked to see her, the former model, positively Raphaelian now. She sported a low cut dress that showed off her 50 double D's, it bound across her 48-inch belly and pinched across her 55-inch rear.
Since Veterans Day, she had gained another 82 pounds, a little under two pounds a day, and a total of 159 in just under 5 months. They chatted at the door with folks from their past who all smiled or smirked and said that suburban life was certainly agreeing with them. He left her for a minute, beaming with all the self-assurance she had at 110 pounds, to get rid of their coats.
Dropping their coats in the bedroom, he saw that the TV had been left on, and the home improvement channel was showing a re-run of the episode about the Koi pond. His friend Rob walked in at that point and said, "You know, we've been thinking of moving out to the suburbs - what do you think of it so far?"
"You don't know the half of it..."
