SSBBW, Extreme eating, ~XWG - A BBW flaunts her parents' wishes and embraces the fat lifestyle in this feeder/feedee story.
For years I had been doing the taxes for the Brown family. They had one daughter Wendy. Even though she is on her own now, she always comes with her parents and I do her taxes separately. I always thought she was rather cute; maybe it was her face, maybe it was her plumpness. If I had met her in another place, I may have asked her out, but it wasn't a good idea to ask clients out.
This year, I did her parents' taxes. When I looked through the paperwork they handed me, there was an envelope with a note and a twenty dollar bill attached, "Ask Wendy out, she's shy." I collected all of the paperwork, ask the questions and put everything in a file. I wrote out my bill, deducted the twenty as already paid, and sent her parents to the cashier. I then did Wendy's tax, and at the end, I told her that I was done for the day, and asked if she would like to join me for an evening snack. She agreed.
We went to the food court of the local mall, which was rather quiet at that time. I always thought she was a nice person, but I had seen a new side of her and I liked her personality as we socialized. As we were done eating, she asked me why I had done her taxes all of these years, and never asked her out before. While I was trying to think of a reason, she interrupted. "Oh I see, don't tell me my father paid you to take me out, too." As I tried to come up with an answer, she said, "My father has given up on me getting thin, so now he's paying men to take me off his hands. Like damaged merchandise. Well I've dated some men who try to ignore my size."
I then asked her if she had dated men who preferred her size. "Prefer my size. What do you mean by THAT?"
I told her about FAs and she seemed very curious. I then told her about the whole range of size acceptance, even about feeders and the like. "So, how did you find out about all of this?" I told her that I was an FA.
"Really," she asked. At about that time a 350-pound lady walked through the food court. I pointed her out to Wendy, and said that many men would find her attractive. It seemed that she kept asking me about feeders. I told her that I wasn't a feeder.
She said, "So you wouldn't feed a woman who wanted to be fed?" I told her I would never force a woman to eat. I also told her that I had never come across a feedee.
Wendy then asked me if the 350-pound woman was too big for me.
Not at all, I told her.
So, none of the women you dated gained weight while you were seeing them.
I told her that some women stayed exactly the same, while others had gained quite a bit.
"I'm confused," she said. "You've never met a feedee, yet some women gained."
I told her that feedees intentionally gain weight, usually with the help of a man, while some women just gained.
"But, what is the difference whether the woman wanted to be fat? I'm only around 200, and you like women who weigh around 350. You wouldn't want me to get fatter?"
I told her it didn't matter. There was more than just a person's size. Since it was getting late, we called it a night.
The next day, I called Wendy and told her that I enjoyed the previous evening with her and asked her out to dinner.
"So how many dates did my father pay for?" Wendy asked.
"Well actually none," I said, "because I credited the money towards the tax fee. And this one is on me."
She then told me that she wanted to continue our conversation on size acceptance. I suggested that we meet on Saturday afternoon, since our discussions ended up being quite wordy. We would eat Saturday night.
I met her at her house on Saturday afternoon. She thanked me for asking her out on my own.
"Why not?" I said. I then told her that I thought she was pretty and had a nice personality. I then told her that since her weight wasn't a problem, I got a good deal.
She told me about that her father told her she would never have a boyfriend unless she was thin. After years of trying to get her to lose weight, he would pay men to ask her out. "So where do women find men who like to feed them?" she asked.
Well, I guess through personal ads and magazines for feeders, I said. "Why, do you want to find a feeder?" I teased.
"Yes," she said, as her faced turned serious.
I warned her that many men who were feeders didn't know when to stop. We ended up talking about other things until we went to dinner. When we came back, she invited me in, and we sat at her dining room table. She laid out several dessert type foods, and started eating.
I kind of think that she had the conversation planned. At first we talked about size acceptance, then why I liked large women. Then what I liked about larger women. And then she said, "John, I want to gain weight. I don't know how much, but I want to get bigger. I know you're not a feeder, but I'd love to have you feed me."
My heart was beginning to beat faster. Even though I wasn't a feeder, women who wanted to get fatter always intrigued me, even though I had never met any in person. Wendy was really cute, and the thought of her face on a larger body sounded really exciting. But at the same time I didn't know if I wanted to have the reputation of being a feeder.
She spoke, and asked why I was so quiet. "Just thinking," I said.
"Thinking about what?" Wendy asked.
"Well, I've never been a feeder," I said.
And she said, "Well I've never been a feedee."
I asked her why she wanted to gain. "I've tried to please my family for so long. I've always denied myself. I kind of fantasized about eating everything I could find, when I was denying myself. I planned on doing it when I was on my own, but my family kept after me not to eat. I was told I couldn't find a man. When you told me about feeders and feedees, my old fantasies came back. It was the missing link in my lifelong fantasy.
"But what about you, John? You don't seem to be too enthusiastic."
"Actually I am very much interested. I really enjoy your company. But I just want to make sure you know what you are getting into," I said.
Wendy told me that she thought of everything. She has a good job that accepts very fat people. She is very healthy. I told her that I would love to help her, whatever she wanted to be. She grabbed me, and hugged me hard. She then kissed me. I knew that she was very serious about it. We spent the rest of the night on the couch starting to pet, and watching TV. We were bonding quite well. We made plans to meet the next day, Sunday. I told her that I wanted to take her food shopping, and she got very horny again.
We agreed to meet at 10 am. She was dressed and ready to go. I could tell that she was very anxious. On the way to the store, she asked how my morning went. I told her that it was fine. She told me that she was so excited in anticipation. She asked me what I did. I told her that I went through a lot of my publications to read about feeders and feedees. She made a sexual gasping noise. "You sound like you are taking this seriously."
I told her that I was. We got to the grocery store and started shopping. She filled her cart at about the halfway point, so I got another cart. We checked out, and filled her trunk and back seat with bags of gooey and fattening groceries. I asked her how she picked out what she wanted, and she said it was simple.
"I just bought everything I wasn't allowed to eat as a child."
We got to her house, and I noticed a lot of empty cabinets.
"This is what I did all morning, made room for the good stuff." After we put away the groceries, she was getting horny again. I helped her lay out bowls of food on the coffee table. She hadn't noticed that I had slipped away to the kitchen and made her a sundae in a large cereal bowl, topped with whipped cream, fudge and nuts. She kissed me as I put it down in front of her. As she worked on the ice cream, I would unwrap candy bars and put them in her mouth. As she finished the ice cream, she started to hold her stomach.
"I'm starting to feel sick," she said.
"Great," I said. Thats how you can tell that you ate as much as you could." I told her that is what a feedee does, although she didn't have to go that far if she didn't want to. I told her that by eating to capacity, her stomach would stretch and she could eat a little more each time. She started to burp, then started to nibble again.
About an hour later, I asked her if she was ready for another sundae. She had the biggest smile, and said that she would try. After I brought it to her, she ate half of it, and slowed down to almost nothing as she made assorted burping and hiccupping noises that she tried to hide.
To give her a break from eating, I started to touch her body, and told her that the whipped cream would show here, and the fudge would show there. About 10 minutes later, she was able to finish the sundae.
Ten minutes after that, I raided her cabinets again and brought her some goodies that I laid on the table to replace what she ate between the sundaes. After her first bite of Twinkies, she said, "wait a minute," and the unzipped her jeans. Oh man, that feels better, she exclaimed as she finished her Twinkie. "So when do I need the next size?" she asked.
I told her that I didn't know, since I was never a feeder before. I told her that at the rate she was eating, we'd better go the next day. She had a great big grin, and said, "Yeah," in a very satisfied way. She spent the rest of the night eating heavily, burping, and walking very slowly to the bathroom. She ate continuously from 2 p.m. to 10 p.m., when we said goodnight.
The next day, I picked Wendy up and we went shopping. We looked at the plus size department, since she would be going from a 20 to a 22. I asked her how her clothes were fitting, and she said that they were a little tighter, but she thought that the most part of her binge was yet to show.
She accidentally went one rack too far to the maternities. She showed me something she liked, but then I showed her the sign about the same time she noticed the "lady in waiting" label.
"Well, actually I feel pregnant, she said. I am waiting for the result of yesterday's feast. Too bad, she said, I really like this top, with these pants."
I asked her if she liked it, and it fits, why doesn't she buy it? She laughed and looked at it again. You know, it doesn't look that much like maternity wear. And she put it in her cart. We then went past a maternity bra display, which said, "For the new changes in your body."
Oh man, she said. I thought about my outer clothes, but I'm going to need new underwear too.
I picked up a 38C and threw it in her cart. She looked at me funny, and I said, "If you get pregnant, your boobs grow and you buy an expandable bra. If you get fat, you boobs grow, so why not buy an expandable bra. She took it out of the cart, and replaced it with a 40C.
It isn't just my boobs that are going to grow, she said.
As we headed back to the plus size area, she picked up the largest size pants, stretched them out as far as she could, and said, I am getting VERY hungry."
We headed to the checkout counter, where she added a handful of candy bars to the order.
She started eating candy bars on the way to the car. We stopped at a buffet place, where she was able to make 5 trips to the bar, plus a dessert run. We returned home, where, despite the fact that she had trouble moving being so full, she was able to continue eating as we sat quietly watching TV.
The next day, I met her at her house, and she was wearing her maternity outfit. That was nice for you to wear and show me," I said.
"I had to wear it to work," she said. "I think Sunday's meal appeared on me overnight. I made us a meal, but I need to go clothes shopping tonight. I'm going to need a few outfits."
Even though I was new to feeder/feedee relationships, I had never seen anyone eat so much. It was obvious that she learned how to constantly eat without getting sick to her stomach.
We went to Lane Bryant at the mall. She looked at things in size 22, and then asked me how women who gained a lot kept getting new clothes. I told her that certain styles of clothes could last through 50 and even 100 pounds of weight gain. I showed her stretch pants, big tops and tent dresses.
"Think of them as maternity clothes for gaining weight," I chuckled. She picked out three outfits that would accommodate the changes her body would go through. When we got home, she raided the freezer, and then tried her clothes on in front of me. Her entire body was filled with bright-red stretch marks.
The next day, I went to her house and she was going through her closet. She had a stack of clothes on the bed; some were size 20, and a few were 18. However, there was one size 10. I asked her how she got that. She told me that her parents bought it for her, so she would lose weight. I asked what she was going to do with it. She told me that she would give it back to her parents. She said they told her that when she could fit into it, she would be thin enough to get married.
"So John," she said, "What happens when I outgrow the Lane Bryant clothes?"
I told her that there were mail order companies that went to size 70, and even above. She asked me how to get the catalogs. I told her that she had a while to go, even at the rate she was eating.
"I know," she said, "But I'd like to see them anyway."
I told her that I had a list at home, and would bring them to her the next day.
Wendy continued to eat. We were seeing each other almost every day, and she kept me busy feeding her. I am sure that she would have outgrown her size 22 clothes, if she hadn't bought tent dresses and stretch pants. Her growing body reflected her voracious appetite. Several weeks later when I visited Wendy, I noticed that she had an open box from one of the catalogs I had told her about. I asked her about it, and she said, You'll see. She also said that she hated to involve people in family arguments, but she would make an exception.
Story continued in post 2 of this thread
The Tax Accountant
by Anonymous
by Anonymous
This year, I did her parents' taxes. When I looked through the paperwork they handed me, there was an envelope with a note and a twenty dollar bill attached, "Ask Wendy out, she's shy." I collected all of the paperwork, ask the questions and put everything in a file. I wrote out my bill, deducted the twenty as already paid, and sent her parents to the cashier. I then did Wendy's tax, and at the end, I told her that I was done for the day, and asked if she would like to join me for an evening snack. She agreed.
We went to the food court of the local mall, which was rather quiet at that time. I always thought she was a nice person, but I had seen a new side of her and I liked her personality as we socialized. As we were done eating, she asked me why I had done her taxes all of these years, and never asked her out before. While I was trying to think of a reason, she interrupted. "Oh I see, don't tell me my father paid you to take me out, too." As I tried to come up with an answer, she said, "My father has given up on me getting thin, so now he's paying men to take me off his hands. Like damaged merchandise. Well I've dated some men who try to ignore my size."
I then asked her if she had dated men who preferred her size. "Prefer my size. What do you mean by THAT?"
I told her about FAs and she seemed very curious. I then told her about the whole range of size acceptance, even about feeders and the like. "So, how did you find out about all of this?" I told her that I was an FA.
"Really," she asked. At about that time a 350-pound lady walked through the food court. I pointed her out to Wendy, and said that many men would find her attractive. It seemed that she kept asking me about feeders. I told her that I wasn't a feeder.
She said, "So you wouldn't feed a woman who wanted to be fed?" I told her I would never force a woman to eat. I also told her that I had never come across a feedee.
Wendy then asked me if the 350-pound woman was too big for me.
Not at all, I told her.
So, none of the women you dated gained weight while you were seeing them.
I told her that some women stayed exactly the same, while others had gained quite a bit.
"I'm confused," she said. "You've never met a feedee, yet some women gained."
I told her that feedees intentionally gain weight, usually with the help of a man, while some women just gained.
"But, what is the difference whether the woman wanted to be fat? I'm only around 200, and you like women who weigh around 350. You wouldn't want me to get fatter?"
I told her it didn't matter. There was more than just a person's size. Since it was getting late, we called it a night.
The next day, I called Wendy and told her that I enjoyed the previous evening with her and asked her out to dinner.
"So how many dates did my father pay for?" Wendy asked.
"Well actually none," I said, "because I credited the money towards the tax fee. And this one is on me."
She then told me that she wanted to continue our conversation on size acceptance. I suggested that we meet on Saturday afternoon, since our discussions ended up being quite wordy. We would eat Saturday night.
I met her at her house on Saturday afternoon. She thanked me for asking her out on my own.
"Why not?" I said. I then told her that I thought she was pretty and had a nice personality. I then told her that since her weight wasn't a problem, I got a good deal.
She told me about that her father told her she would never have a boyfriend unless she was thin. After years of trying to get her to lose weight, he would pay men to ask her out. "So where do women find men who like to feed them?" she asked.
Well, I guess through personal ads and magazines for feeders, I said. "Why, do you want to find a feeder?" I teased.
"Yes," she said, as her faced turned serious.
I warned her that many men who were feeders didn't know when to stop. We ended up talking about other things until we went to dinner. When we came back, she invited me in, and we sat at her dining room table. She laid out several dessert type foods, and started eating.
I kind of think that she had the conversation planned. At first we talked about size acceptance, then why I liked large women. Then what I liked about larger women. And then she said, "John, I want to gain weight. I don't know how much, but I want to get bigger. I know you're not a feeder, but I'd love to have you feed me."
My heart was beginning to beat faster. Even though I wasn't a feeder, women who wanted to get fatter always intrigued me, even though I had never met any in person. Wendy was really cute, and the thought of her face on a larger body sounded really exciting. But at the same time I didn't know if I wanted to have the reputation of being a feeder.
She spoke, and asked why I was so quiet. "Just thinking," I said.
"Thinking about what?" Wendy asked.
"Well, I've never been a feeder," I said.
And she said, "Well I've never been a feedee."
I asked her why she wanted to gain. "I've tried to please my family for so long. I've always denied myself. I kind of fantasized about eating everything I could find, when I was denying myself. I planned on doing it when I was on my own, but my family kept after me not to eat. I was told I couldn't find a man. When you told me about feeders and feedees, my old fantasies came back. It was the missing link in my lifelong fantasy.
"But what about you, John? You don't seem to be too enthusiastic."
"Actually I am very much interested. I really enjoy your company. But I just want to make sure you know what you are getting into," I said.
Wendy told me that she thought of everything. She has a good job that accepts very fat people. She is very healthy. I told her that I would love to help her, whatever she wanted to be. She grabbed me, and hugged me hard. She then kissed me. I knew that she was very serious about it. We spent the rest of the night on the couch starting to pet, and watching TV. We were bonding quite well. We made plans to meet the next day, Sunday. I told her that I wanted to take her food shopping, and she got very horny again.
We agreed to meet at 10 am. She was dressed and ready to go. I could tell that she was very anxious. On the way to the store, she asked how my morning went. I told her that it was fine. She told me that she was so excited in anticipation. She asked me what I did. I told her that I went through a lot of my publications to read about feeders and feedees. She made a sexual gasping noise. "You sound like you are taking this seriously."
I told her that I was. We got to the grocery store and started shopping. She filled her cart at about the halfway point, so I got another cart. We checked out, and filled her trunk and back seat with bags of gooey and fattening groceries. I asked her how she picked out what she wanted, and she said it was simple.
"I just bought everything I wasn't allowed to eat as a child."
We got to her house, and I noticed a lot of empty cabinets.
"This is what I did all morning, made room for the good stuff." After we put away the groceries, she was getting horny again. I helped her lay out bowls of food on the coffee table. She hadn't noticed that I had slipped away to the kitchen and made her a sundae in a large cereal bowl, topped with whipped cream, fudge and nuts. She kissed me as I put it down in front of her. As she worked on the ice cream, I would unwrap candy bars and put them in her mouth. As she finished the ice cream, she started to hold her stomach.
"I'm starting to feel sick," she said.
"Great," I said. Thats how you can tell that you ate as much as you could." I told her that is what a feedee does, although she didn't have to go that far if she didn't want to. I told her that by eating to capacity, her stomach would stretch and she could eat a little more each time. She started to burp, then started to nibble again.
About an hour later, I asked her if she was ready for another sundae. She had the biggest smile, and said that she would try. After I brought it to her, she ate half of it, and slowed down to almost nothing as she made assorted burping and hiccupping noises that she tried to hide.
To give her a break from eating, I started to touch her body, and told her that the whipped cream would show here, and the fudge would show there. About 10 minutes later, she was able to finish the sundae.
Ten minutes after that, I raided her cabinets again and brought her some goodies that I laid on the table to replace what she ate between the sundaes. After her first bite of Twinkies, she said, "wait a minute," and the unzipped her jeans. Oh man, that feels better, she exclaimed as she finished her Twinkie. "So when do I need the next size?" she asked.
I told her that I didn't know, since I was never a feeder before. I told her that at the rate she was eating, we'd better go the next day. She had a great big grin, and said, "Yeah," in a very satisfied way. She spent the rest of the night eating heavily, burping, and walking very slowly to the bathroom. She ate continuously from 2 p.m. to 10 p.m., when we said goodnight.
The next day, I picked Wendy up and we went shopping. We looked at the plus size department, since she would be going from a 20 to a 22. I asked her how her clothes were fitting, and she said that they were a little tighter, but she thought that the most part of her binge was yet to show.
She accidentally went one rack too far to the maternities. She showed me something she liked, but then I showed her the sign about the same time she noticed the "lady in waiting" label.
"Well, actually I feel pregnant, she said. I am waiting for the result of yesterday's feast. Too bad, she said, I really like this top, with these pants."
I asked her if she liked it, and it fits, why doesn't she buy it? She laughed and looked at it again. You know, it doesn't look that much like maternity wear. And she put it in her cart. We then went past a maternity bra display, which said, "For the new changes in your body."
Oh man, she said. I thought about my outer clothes, but I'm going to need new underwear too.
I picked up a 38C and threw it in her cart. She looked at me funny, and I said, "If you get pregnant, your boobs grow and you buy an expandable bra. If you get fat, you boobs grow, so why not buy an expandable bra. She took it out of the cart, and replaced it with a 40C.
It isn't just my boobs that are going to grow, she said.
As we headed back to the plus size area, she picked up the largest size pants, stretched them out as far as she could, and said, I am getting VERY hungry."
We headed to the checkout counter, where she added a handful of candy bars to the order.
She started eating candy bars on the way to the car. We stopped at a buffet place, where she was able to make 5 trips to the bar, plus a dessert run. We returned home, where, despite the fact that she had trouble moving being so full, she was able to continue eating as we sat quietly watching TV.
The next day, I met her at her house, and she was wearing her maternity outfit. That was nice for you to wear and show me," I said.
"I had to wear it to work," she said. "I think Sunday's meal appeared on me overnight. I made us a meal, but I need to go clothes shopping tonight. I'm going to need a few outfits."
Even though I was new to feeder/feedee relationships, I had never seen anyone eat so much. It was obvious that she learned how to constantly eat without getting sick to her stomach.
We went to Lane Bryant at the mall. She looked at things in size 22, and then asked me how women who gained a lot kept getting new clothes. I told her that certain styles of clothes could last through 50 and even 100 pounds of weight gain. I showed her stretch pants, big tops and tent dresses.
"Think of them as maternity clothes for gaining weight," I chuckled. She picked out three outfits that would accommodate the changes her body would go through. When we got home, she raided the freezer, and then tried her clothes on in front of me. Her entire body was filled with bright-red stretch marks.
The next day, I went to her house and she was going through her closet. She had a stack of clothes on the bed; some were size 20, and a few were 18. However, there was one size 10. I asked her how she got that. She told me that her parents bought it for her, so she would lose weight. I asked what she was going to do with it. She told me that she would give it back to her parents. She said they told her that when she could fit into it, she would be thin enough to get married.
"So John," she said, "What happens when I outgrow the Lane Bryant clothes?"
I told her that there were mail order companies that went to size 70, and even above. She asked me how to get the catalogs. I told her that she had a while to go, even at the rate she was eating.
"I know," she said, "But I'd like to see them anyway."
I told her that I had a list at home, and would bring them to her the next day.
Wendy continued to eat. We were seeing each other almost every day, and she kept me busy feeding her. I am sure that she would have outgrown her size 22 clothes, if she hadn't bought tent dresses and stretch pants. Her growing body reflected her voracious appetite. Several weeks later when I visited Wendy, I noticed that she had an open box from one of the catalogs I had told her about. I asked her about it, and she said, You'll see. She also said that she hated to involve people in family arguments, but she would make an exception.
Story continued in post 2 of this thread
