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Six Months to Gain


fatisfun

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This is the first story for me to post here.  I've posted several at FF under the name fatforfun.  But I've gotten to like the community here, so I thought I'd post this newest story on here.  I'll be posting in installments.  I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 1

I never expected to hear from Denise again.  We had once dated for about 4 months.  When I met her, she was a tall red head with green eyes, five feet ten inches, curvy, about 170 pounds.  I was immediately attracted to her.  She had a playful personality, she was more than pretty, and her curvy body held the promise of growth.  That was what led to our break up.  I like chubby girls, and more than that, I like fattening girls up.  When we started dating, I took her to nice restaurants and encouraged her to order heavy meals and follow up with a dessert.  I’m a pretty decent cook, and when she came over I made sure that she got a major dose of calories.

Over the course of our four months, she gained 20 pounds.  Her breasts were overflowing her bras, which we both liked.  Her hips were thicker and her belly was starting to round out nicely.  Which I liked and she didn’t.  That’s when we had The Honest Talk.  I told her that I liked her with the extra curves, and truth be told, I wanted her to keep gaining.  Sex was fantastic with her, and I loved kneading her new layer of plumpness.  Facing the 200 pound mark, Denise panicked about the idea of becoming a really fat girl, and broke up with me.  I was sorry to see her go, but I couldn’t make myself not be a fat admirer and feeder.  And she knew it.

So we went our separate ways.  That was a year and a half ago.  Atlanta is a big city, and we lived on opposite sides of town, so it was easy for both of us to pick up on our lives without running into each other.  So I was very surprised when I got a text from her.  “Can you meet me at the Crafty Drafty?  I have a proposition that I think you’d like.”  I was intrigued.  She knew my predilections, and wanted to meet me?  And our break up had been cordial.  We liked each other, it was she just that she couldn’t reconcile my love for fatness with her desire to stay slim.  Relatively slim, anyway.

We agreed to at 5:30 that afternoon, a Friday.  The Crafty Drafty is a southside brew pub, with better than average pub grub.  In fact, it was one of the places that had helped put 20 pounds on her.  I wondered what she would look like.  I expected to see her back at her 170 pound weight, or maybe even lighter in reaction to her experience with me.  I walked in and spotted her at a small table in the back.  I immediately got two surprises.  One, she wasn’t alone.  Sitting with her was a guy.  It was hard to tell his exact height since he was sitting down, but I got the impression that he was fairly tall.  He had dark hair and eyes, and he was definitely chubby.  He had a large round belly that rested on his lap.  Speaking of chubby, that was my second surprise.  Denise hadn’t lost the weight.  In fact, looking at her I thought that she had probably hit that dreaded 200 pound mark.  She looked great.

Denise saw me and waved me over.  “Jim,” she said as she gave me a warm, nicely squishy hug, “it’s really good to see you.”  I sat down and she introduced me to the guy.  “Jim, this is Brad, my fiancé.”

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Chapter 2

So that was my third surprise.  My fat phobic ex-girlfriend had not only gained weight, but was now engaged to a guy who looked to be carrying a good 50 extra pounds around his middle.  Not that I’m criticizing.  I’ve got a medium build with no belly, not because I really work at it but because I just don’t get into eating that much and I’m fairly active.  But I certainly don’t look down at anyone else for gaining weight.  So we shook hands, I sat down and ordered a beer from the waitress.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why we wanted to meet with you,” Brad opened.  “I won’t keep you in suspense.  Denise told me about you being a feeder.  I want you to fatten her up.”

I looked over at Denise.  She smiled and nodded.  “That’s right, Jim.  We both want you to make me as fat as you can.”

“So here’s the story,” Brad said.  “When Denise and I met, she was a good 20 pounds lighter.”  Which put her at about 180, I thought, so she had lost about half of what I’d put on her.  “Of course, I had this belly,” he said, patting his paunch, “but it didn’t scare her off.”

“As a matter of fact,” Denise chimed in, “I found that I actually like a belly on a guy.”

“Here’s the situation, Jim.  Denise and I love each other and we want to get married.  But there’s a problem with my mother.  She controls the family estate, and it’s a big one.  She doesn’t think Denise loves me for me.  She thinks she’s after our money.  And she’s ready to cut me out of the will.  Mom and I argued and argued about it and here’s what we came up with.  If Denise was to get fatter than me, it would be proof to my mom that she really loves me.  Mom is sure that no girl would get really fat on purpose, even to get her hands on my inheritance.”

“I really do love Brad,” Denise added.  “I’d get fat for him anyway, if that’s what he wanted.  And it turns out, I really like being bigger.  I just hadn’t been able to admit that to myself when you and I dated.”

Back to Brad.  “Here’s the deal, Jim.  Mom is sending me to Aruba to oversee our oil operations there.  It’ll be for six months.  We agreed that while I was gone, Denise would get really fat.  At least 50 pounds, but the more that she gains, the more that my mom will be convinced.  So we want her to stay with you and you put as much weight as you can on her.  I know that it won’t be cheap to feed her, so I’ll put $1000 dollars a month in your account.  Hell, let’s make sure she eats well.  $2000 a month.  We’ll weigh her before I leave and again when I get back.  You’ll get another $1000 for every pound she’s gained.”

My head was spinning.  This was major fantasy come true.  I would get paid to fatten up this beautiful woman, no strings attached.  But there was an issue.  Denise was engaged to Brad.  “This is a really tempting offer, Brad.  But there’s a problem.  Denise and I were, uh, intimate when we were together.  I’m really attracted to her physically, and the fatter she gets, the more I’ll be attracted to her.  I don’t think you can trust me to keep my hands off of her.”

Brad let out a laugh.  “Hah!  That’s no problem, Jim.  Hell, I figured on the two of you going at it like rabbits.  Wouldn’t be natural if you didn’t.  I know that once I come back, she’ll be mine.  With a brand new fat body,” he said, patting her small belly.  “Besides, she eats more when she’s sexually satisfied.  So keeping her that way will help put the weight on her.  So now, Jim, what do say?”

What could I say?  Six months of fattening up Denise, with great sex getting greater as she got fatter.  And a big paycheck at the end.  How could I turn this deal down?  “Brad, Denise, you’ve got yourselves a deal.”

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Chapter 3

Brad was leaving for his 6 month tour the next day.  So Saturday morning I met them at his upper west side condo (which had to have cost him close to a million dollars).  Denise was packed and ready.  Brad said, “Thanks for doing this, Jim.  Because of you, I’ll have a wonderful fat wife, and we’ll both have plenty of money to enjoy ourselves.  Oh, one more thing,” looking over at Denise.  “Let’s have a weigh in before I go.”  He pulled a scale out of the bathroom and put it down.  Denise hopped on it and the number settled at 205.

“See babe,” she laughed.  “I’m already getting fat for you!”  They hugged, promised each other to text often, and we parted.  His driver loaded his luggage and they left for the airport.  I loaded Denise’s luggage and we went to my more modest condo.  We hauled her things in and I helped her get settled.  Which meant hanging her clothes on the other side of my closet and filling the unused drawers in my dresser.   She had also brought over the scale which went in what was now our bathroom.  She was obviously planning to spend her six month residence in my bedroom, not the guest room.  Which was fine by me.  Once we were done, she looked over at me.  “So what’s first,” she asked with a sidelong glance.  “Bed, or lunch?”

I walked over and put my arms around her.  “I’ll order pizza.  Bed while we wait.  Then get ready for an all afternoon stuffing.”  It only took a moment for me to text in my pizza order, and they have my card on file.  Denise undressed while I was texting.  She looked delicious.  Her breasts had to be DD’s, hanging over a stomach that had a hint of a curve until a small pooch appeared around her belly button.  Her hips were a little thicker than I remembered, and her butt stuck out behind her more than I remembered.   My hands shook a little as I texted.  As soon as I hit “send” I tore my own clothes off and led her to bed.  We were all over each other.  She was as passionate as I remembered, and the extra thickness was, as they say, icing on the cake.  I dug my fingers into the softness of her, totally turned on by the idea that I would be adding to that softness.  A lot.

We were finished and lying there letting our breathing get under control when the doorbell rang.  Pizza.  I grabbed a robe and went to the front door.  I got the pizza and signed the slip giving the delivery boy a healthy tip.  I brought the pizza into the bedroom.  “You can start eating,” I said, “while I get you something to drink.”  She smiled and opened the box, which had an extra large pizza with everything, including double cheese.  As she started to eat, I went into the kitchen.  I had the blender out, and I had stocked the refrigerator before picking her pick up.  I fixed her a large, thick chocolate shake.  It was going to be a high calorie afternoon for her.

She was on her second slice when she looked up and she me and saw the shake.  “Oh, baby,” she laughed, “you sure know how to show a girl a good time.”  She lay back on the pillows, naked, eating pizza and washing it down with the shake.  Sitting like that made her belly form a nice roll.  I knew that roll was going to get a lot bigger, and a few more would join it.  I ate a couple of slices myself, which left plenty for Denise.   Her fourth slice was half of that extra large pizza, and she was having trouble finishing it.  But she soldiered on, licking her fingers.  She looked at the remaining two big slices.  “I should eat those,” she said, “but I’m stuffed.”

“Just finish your shake and take a break, babe.  We’ve got the rest of the afternoon.”  I didn’t want her to have a bad experience with stuffing starting out.  If she stuffed herself to the point of getting sick, it would give stuffing a negative connotation.  I wanted her to associate stuffing with pleasure.  I took the leftovers into the kitchen and I baked a batch of brownies.  It was from a mix, so it was pretty easy.  But plenty of calories.  While they were cooking I checked on Denise.  She was napping, which was perfect.  Let all those calories settle.  Once the brownies were done and cooled enough, I cut them into squares and stacked them on a plate.  They made an impressive stack.  I went in a woke up Denise.  “Shall we have some fun and make progress photos for Brad?”

“Sure!” she answered, “What do you have in mind?”

“Today will be the before picture.  C’mon.”  I took her to my dining table where I had the brownies stacked.  She sat down, still naked, with the brownies sitting defiantly in front of her.  “Today’s picture will be with your starter belly,” as I patted it.  It was still pretty firm from the pizza and shake.  “We’ll send it to Brad.  Once a week, we’ll take an update, as your belly gets bigger,” I patted it again, “and bigger.”

“And the brownies?” Denise asked, eyeing them.

“After I take the picture, eat as many as you can.  Take your time, dinner’s not for a couple more hours.”

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Chapter 4

Denise took the platter of brownies to the sofa, and turned on the TV.  To a cooking show, ironically.  As she watched fabulous meals being made, she slowly ate one brownie after another.  She was almost mechanical about it.  Reach over to the platter, pick up a brownie.  Take a bite.  Chew, methodically, three or four times, and then swallow.  Take another bite.  Chew. Swallow.  Send her tongue out to catch a crumb on her lip.  Take the last of the brownie and put it in her mouth.  Chew.  Swallow.  Pick up another brownie.  Repeat.

After an hour, she finished about half the brownies.  “Stuffed again,” she said, patting her belly.  “Feels good.  But I have to stop.”

“You’ve done great, Denise.  Just relax.  I’ll start fixing dinner.  And I’ll fix you a couple of cocktails in the meantime.”  I made her a Kahlua and cream.  A real little calorie bomb.  I made lasagna, from scratch, which takes some time.  I also made garlic bread and a salad.  I had tiramisu in the fridge for dessert.  Denise drank two more Kahlua and creams while I was fixing dinner.  At 7:30, I had dinner ready.  I helped Denise up from the sofa to the table.  She was a little tipsy and a little bit in a food stupor.  And she was still naked, by the way.  Good, nothing to put pressure on her belly.  When she got to the table, her eyes shown.

“This looks great, Jim.  I can almost feel myself getting fatter.”  That made it hard for me to concentrate on eating, because that had to be the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.  She dug in like she was on a mission, which of course she was.  Two big slices of lasagna, three pieces of garlic bread and even some salad.  All of it washed down with a good Cabernet.  At the end she leaned back and let out a substantial burp.  “Excuse me,” she said.  “It’s all so good.”  Actually it was good if I do say so myself.  Good enough that I also ate my fair share.

“Got room for tiramisu?” I asked, a little devilishly.

“Try me.”

So I cut two slices, a medium slice for me, and thick slice for her and her thickening waist.  It took a little while, but she finished every bit of it.  I helped her back to the sofa while I cleaned up.  There wasn’t much to do, since I clean as I go when I’m cooking.

We pulled up a movie while she let it all settle.  As I looked over at her I could swear that her belly was bigger.  That couldn’t be, not in one day of stuffing herself, but it was a nice thought.  After the movie she was ready for bed.  She made her own way to bed, with a stop in the bathroom.  By the time she had laid back on her pillows, I walked with another impressive slice of tiramisu.  “Can you handle one more slice?”

“You’ll have to feed it to me.  I’m too full to move.”  I wasn’t sure if that was true or she was just putting on an act to turn me on.  Either way, it was working.  I sat next to her and fed her, bite by fattening bite.  She had me take a couple of bites, too.  “So I won’t be eating alone,” she said.   Finally, she swallowed the last bite.  “And now, I want you.  But be careful.  Don’t put any pressure on this belly.”  That meant that we were doing it doggy style, which was fine with me.  Her ass was magnificent.  And as I pounded away, I imagined that ass getting bigger.  And bigger.

The next day was more of the same.   I fixed a huge breakfast.  Mounds of eggs with cream, sausage, bacon, stacks of pancakes, orange juice and coffee.  I think she ate a dozen pancakes, slathered with butter and syrup.  I ate what was left, which was still plenty to fill me up.

At about mid-morning I fixed her another shake.  For lunch I took her to the Silver Saddle, with an all you can eat barbeque buffet.  She made good use of it.  Three plates full and two desserts.  By the time we were done, she had unbuttoned her pants to give herself room to breathe.  After I paid, I helped her to the car and took her home.  I was glad that my condo had an elevator, since stairs weren’t an option for her at the moment.  And maybe never again.  She napped on the sofa for an hour.  Mid-afternoon, I woke her up with another shake and the platter with the rest of the brownies.  “Wow, Jim, I don’t know if I can.”

“Just give it a try, babe.  See how many you can eat.”  It took an hour and a half, but she finished them.

Dinner was steak, with asparagus broiled in butter and garlic, and baked potatoes.  A huge potato for Denise, and semi-huge one for me.  And a bottle of Merlot.  Once again, Denise powered through, finishing everything, right down to the skin of her potato.  For dessert I made strawberry shortcake.  She had two, I had one.

We watched a little TV, and I left a bowl of chocolate candies in a bowl next to her.  After an hour, she had a pile of candy wrappers on the end table.  Another successful day.

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Chapter 5

The next day was Monday, and I had to go to work.  I manage the books for a restaurant chain, so my hours are flexible, but I do need to put in 40 hours a week.  More at tax time.  But I can work up to 8 hours a week at home.  Anyway, I was going to have to leave Denise at home without me there to help feed her, but I’d planned ahead.  When I’d stocked the fridge and pantry Saturday morning, I’d made sure to load up on high calorie, carb heavy foods that were easy to fix.  Ready to heat cinnamon rolls, pizza bites, hot pockets, frozen pizzas, pot pies, and on and on.  Plus plenty of fattening treats.  Several cartons of ice cream.  Frozen novelty desserts.  Frozen pies.  In the pantry were bags of various kinds of chips, not to mention multiple bags of candies.

I also had set up an account with Table Express.  They had an on line selection of menus at several of the local restaurants.  Pull up a menu, pick out an entrée, and Table Express would have it at your door in 30-40 minutes.  Denise would have plenty of options.

When I left for work Monday morning, I kissed Denise and told her, “Eat to your hearts content, babe.  And when I get home, I’m cooking Mexican.”

All day long I had trouble concentrating on the books.  I kept wondering if Denise would pig out on her own.  Fattening her up would be a lot harder if she only stuffed herself with me there to encourage her.  At 4 o’clock I couldn’t wait anymore and left work early.  I rushed home and walked in, a little nervous about what I might find.  Turns out, I didn’t need to worry.

Denise was on the sofa watching something on Netflix, with a bowl full of chocolate chip ice cream.   I came over and kissed her and asked how her day had been.  She smiled like a cat that had ate the canary.  “Oh, honey.  It was the bomb.”  And went back to her ice cream.  I checked out the kitchen, which was clean.  Well, Denise was no slob.  I walked into the utility room where the trash can was.  I remembered that I had emptied it last night.  I looked and saw that she had made cinnamon rolls. And Pizza bites.  And two pot pies.  And I saw a box from Table Express.  I don’t know what was in it, there were no leftovers.  I went back in the kitchen and checked the fridge.  No leftovers.  Denise had not been nibbling here and there, putting leftovers in the fridge.  Apparently she had demolished everything that she had gotten out of the freezer, along with Table Express.  I checked the pantry.  At least two bags of chips were gone.  Three bags of candy were open and mostly empty.  This girl had gorged herself all day long.  I breathed a sigh of relief.  Denise was obviously all in when it came to fattening herself up.

Time to fix dinner.  But first, I made Denise a White Russian, using heavy cream.  Another calorie bomb.   Then I turned my attention to making a Mexican dinner.  One summer between semesters I had worked at an oil field in West Texas and I’d gotten a taste for what they call Tex-Mex out there.  I liked it enough to learn how to make most of the dishes, or least I could come close.  I started by browning 3 pounds of hamburger for tacos.   While it was browning, I made Spanish Rice.  Yes, I cheated by using the pre-made mix, but it actually tastes pretty good, especially when I add a little fresh cilantro.  So I used two boxes of the rice mix.  I also started heating up two of the big cans of charro beans.  Cheating again, but again fresh cilantro to the rescue.  And a few dashes of Sriracha sauce.  I know, Sriracha isn’t Mexican, but it goes well with it.  Once the hamburger was browned, I made a mix of water and chili powder, paprika, cumin, salt, pepper and just enough cayenne to give it a kick.  I poured the mix over the meat to simmer and thicken.  I made Denise another White Russian.  I was pleased with myself for finding creative ways to get some calories into her before even having dinner.

I warmed a stack of soft flour tortillas in the oven while I finished the rest of the dinner.  By the time the meat mixture had cooked down and thickened, everything else was ready.  I put it all on the table along with grated cheese, a bowl of salsa, and a pair of bottles of Dos Equis Amber beer.  Among the many things that Mexico does well is they make good beer down there.  I called Denise to dinner and admired the spread I had laid out.   Normally one pound of taco meat is more than enough for two people, and here I had made enough for six.  I wondered how much of it Denise would eat.  She got to the table and her eyes shown as she took in the sight of the meal.  “Looks like a challenge, Jim.  You really think I can eat all this?”

“Eat as much as you want, Denise.  But no need to hurt yourself.  Just enjoy.”  And I meant that.  If I was going to fatten her up over six months, I knew that I needed to make eating something to enjoy, not a chore to suffer through.  I was planning to cook a lot and I wanted to cook well so Denise would want to eat more, and more.  And still more.

We dug in, and if I say so myself, it was pretty darn good.  And Denise thought so too.  She dug in like a she-lion, making little sounds of satisfaction as she ate taco after taco, multiple helpings of rice and beans, and before it was all over, three bottles of the heavy dark beer.  She unbuttoned her jeans halfway through, pulled the zipper down and her shirt up, allowing her plump belly room to push out.  When she was finally done, there was enough meat for maybe one or two more tacos with some rice and beans, but that was all.  Denise leaned back in her chair and stifled a hearty belch.  “You keep feeding me like that, Jim, you’re going to have a very fat girl on your hands.  And you’ll have earned a hefty fee from Brad.”

“That’s the idea, Babe.  I’m looking forward to seeing that belly spill out and cover your legs.  So you just relax while I clear the dishes and get dessert.”  I saw a moment of uncertainty in her eyes.  After the way she had just gorged herself, she was obviously nervous about trying to eat a heavy dessert.  “I picked up some Flan on the way home.  It doesn’t seem heavy but it packs some calories.”  Which is true.  It’s made up of cream, eggs, sugar and vanilla.  The texture fools you into thinking you’re eating a light dessert, but I knew that it would load Denise with another few hundred calories.  Sure enough, she ate two servings of it before collapsing in her chair.

“No more, Jim.  You’re going to have to help me to the sofa.”

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hexxus, I'm glad you liked "In for a Penny..." that was a lot of fun to write.  And now, here's chapter 6.

Chapter 6

“Guess who gained five pounds already?” Denise asked with a grin.  It was Saturday morning, day 7 of fattening her up.  “Five pounds in a week!” she announced excitedly.  “If I’m can keep up that kind of a gain, in six months I’ll have gained…” she struggled to do the math in her head.  Well I was struggling too, so I pulled out my phone and pulled up the calculator.

“Let’s see, six months will be about 24 weeks.  At five pounds a week, that’s, uh, 120 pounds, which would bring you to, uh, about 325 pounds.” 

“I’ll be huge!  Can you imagine, 325 pounds?  Wait’ll I tell Brad!  He’ll be so excited!”

“Hold on, girl,” I cautioned.  “You may not be able to gain five pounds every week.  You may hit a plateau along the way.  I’m going to do my best to put every pound on you I can, but no guarantees.”

“Okay, I get it,” she answered.  “But as of right now, my goal is to weigh 325 pounds when Brad sees me.  So let’s get started!  What’s for breakfast?”

“I thought we’d go to the Sunrise Café for breakfast, Denise.  On Saturdays they have an all you can eat breakfast buffet.  You should be able to do some real damage there.”  We got dressed and took the short drive to the café, went in and got a table.  We ordered orange juice and coffee from the waitress and headed for the buffet.  I filled my plate, because that’s what you do at a buffet, but Denise took filling her plate to a new level.  It was piled high with eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and biscuits.  We finished our first plates at about the same time.  I was full.  Denise went back to the buffet and brought back a three inch tall stack of pancakes, soaked in butter and syrup.  She finished that and went back again.  This time it was a stack of waffles.   Plus a dish with more bacon and sausage.  That finally finished her off.

I paid and helped her to the car.  She moved like she was 100 years old, slowly and carefully.  I helped lower her into her seat.  “Just drive slow.  I can’t stand the idea of trying to put on my seat belt.”  So I drove slowly.  I needed to restock for the week, so I stopped at the Grand Mart for groceries.  Denise wanted to go in to pick out some items, but when she started to move, she collapsed back and said, “Never mind, I’ll stay here.”

I came back with a cart filled all the way up with groceries.  I had gotten plenty more of the easy to fix foods, plenty of snacks and also plenty of meats and vegetables to cook with.  I drove us home and helped Denise out of the car.  She moved more easily, since she’d had some time to digest, but she was still moving slowly.  I unpacked the groceries and put them away while she relaxed on the sofa.  She napped for an hour, and I woke her up with a chocolate shake.  For lunch I had Table Express bring us Chinese, enough for four which was barely enough.  Mid-afternoon I brought her a shake and a platter of cookies.  While she worked her way through those, I made another big batch of brownies.  Then for dinner we went to a new fusion restaurant, where she demolished something Asian that we couldn’t pronounce.  Back at home, we watched a movie and I fixed her a Kahlua and Cream every half hour or so.  By 11 she was in food and booze coma.

Sunday morning I made a big brunch casserole.  Eggs, ham, cream, hash browns all mixed together and baked.  After brunch it was picture time.   I stacked the brownies the same way I had the week before.  Denise sat naked in front of the stack.  Her belly was definitely a little bigger than at the last photo.  I took the progress photo, and she attached it to a text message to Brad, showing him that she was making progress.  Then she attacked the brownies.  I was proud of her.  She ate more than half of them.  Her stomach capacity was growing.

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Chapter 7

The next few weeks were amazing.  I continued to make sure the house was stocked with fattening goodies to get her through the weekdays.  I would cook at night, always a heavy, calorie laden meal.  I wanted to keep feeding her a variety, so she wouldn’t get tired of the same dishes and slack off of stuffing herself.  So I spent time on the web downloading recipes.  I made a lot of Italian dishes.  Ravioli, fettucine alfredo, tortellini, spaghetti, risotto, scaloppini, and homemade pizza all have a lot of variations to keep dinners interesting.  Lots of bread on the side, and of course nice fattening desserts.  I also tried out various Mexican, Greek, French and German dishes.  It was actually a lot of fun cooking for Denise, since she was an eager eater.

Every week she got a little fatter.  She was disappointed the second week since she didn’t match her previous five pound gain, only gaining three.  But she gained four pounds the next week, and four more the week after that.  So at the end of a month under my care, she was up to 221 pounds.  We kept up the ritual of taking her picture, naked, with her belly pushing out, in front of a stack of brownies.  By the way, the web has many different brownie recipes, and Denise loved them all.  She loved seeing her belly push out more every week, and would text the latest photo to Brad.  She would add a text message, usually something about how fat she was getting for him.  He would send back a text about how well she was doing.

The second month she gained another 17 pounds, bringing her to 238 pounds.  Her belly was now sticking out past her boobs, which was quite a sight considering how her boobs had also grown.  So we took pictures of her standing at a wall with her belly touching.  There was a little bit of space between the wall and her boobs.  That space got a little bigger each week as her belly became more prominent.  Those photos also went by text to Brad.

I had to keep reminding myself that this time with Denise was temporary.  A fantasy come true that was going to last six months, and only six months.  I had to remind myself not to be irritated when Denise would send a picture that I had taken of her to Brad, exclaiming, “Brad will love this!”  Or, “Brad is going to be so turned on by how big my belly is getting!”  She’s engaged to Brad, I reminded myself.  This was just a business arrangement.  But the sex was so great.  It had started out great, with her nice layer of adipose, but as she got fatter, my passion got more intense.  By the end of the third month she was up to 253 pounds.  A gain of 48 pounds.  Her rounded belly was now full and had started to hang.  My favorite position was when she got on top of me and her belly rested on mine.  Not that the weight had all gone to her belly.  Her boobs had gone from a D cup to a EE, her hips had widened and her butt had expanded in all directions.  They all got me going and they all got plenty of attention from me.  When we were done with one of our sex episodes, I always had mixed feelings.  We were only halfway through the six months, so I looked forward to her getting even bigger, and sex even more intense.  But also, I knew that it would come to an end.  And I would miss her.  And not only for the sex.  We enjoyed each other’s company in and out of the bedroom.  When we ate out, usually 2-3 times per week, we enjoyed the same places.  Or went to a live music venue, and it turned out we both liked jazz and blues.  I was going to miss everything about her.

But the only thing to do was enjoy her while I could, and fatten her up as much as I could.  It was a combination of lust and satisfaction of doing the job well to see her continue to expand.  I felt like an artist, creating my own palette of plumpness.

Until I tried to button my own jeans, and I realized that I had expanded, too.

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Chapter 8

I should have seen it coming.  Instead of being as active as I had been, I was spending my time fattening up Denise with rich, heavy foods.  And while she ate far, far more than I did, I was still eating more than I was used to.  And now, it was showing.  I was standing in the bathroom trying to button my jeans.  Jeans that used to fit perfectly.  Now, I had to suck in for all I was worth to get the button closed.  Once it closed and I exhaled, a roll of fat bulged over the top.  That’s when Denise walked in.

“Well,” she laughed.  “Fattening me up has rubbed off on you!  Look at this little tummy bulge!” she said as she patted my layer of fat.

“Okay, go ahead and laugh.  I’ve got it coming.  But these jeans are cutting me in two.”

“Then let’s get you out of them, babe.”  She popped the button open as I sucked in, and zipped down the zipper.  I was still holding it in.  “C’mon, Jim.  Let it out.  Let Denise see how much you’ve grown.”  I exhaled and relaxed my stomach muscles.  When I did, my belly stood out, round and soft.  Denise pulled my jeans down and helped me step out of them.  “Let’s see just how much you’ve gained,” and she pulled the scale over for me.  “Let’s see, you weighed about 180 pounds, right?”  I mumbled that yes, I was180 pounds.  Which at six feet even meant that I had a fairly slender build.  I stepped up on the scale and watched the numbers flash until they settled at…194 pounds.  I had gained 14 pounds.  Not huge, like the 50 pounds that Denise had picked up.  But enough to take me from slender to…husky?

Denise put her arms around me and kissed me, our bellies pressed against each other.  I had to admit that I liked the sensation of both our bellies squishing.  “Remember when we met at the Crafty Drafty and I told you that when I slept with Brad I found out I like a belly on a guy?”  I wasn’t happy with her comparing my 14 pound gain with the big belly that Brad carried, but I let it go.  Denise stepped back a little and grabbed my new layer of flab.  “I like this, Jim.  I like it a lot.”  She took me by the hand and pulled me to the bed.  We had the most passionate sex yet.  She proved that she liked my flab by grabbing it and squeezing it throughout our lovemaking.  And I was surprised to find that I liked it.

Afterwards as we lay there with her hand on my belly, she asked, “So now that you’ve realized you’ve put on weight, what now?  Go on a diet?”

I thought about it a minute.  “You really like this,” I said, pointing at my midsection, “don’t you?”  She murmured that yes she did.  “I guess I’ll wait to lose it until the end of our time together.  You okay with that?”

Denise pulled herself on top of me and looked me in the eye.  “I’m more than okay with it.  In fact,” she paused, “we’re only together another three months.  A little less, I think.  Why not enjoy yourself?  You put on weight because you were fattening me up, right?”  I nodded, yes.  “So why not let the good times roll?  Whether you have 14 pounds to lose, or…a little more, does it really matter?  And we’ll have so much fun together.”

This was new territory for me.  I had always enjoyed fattening up whatever woman I was with, but I’d never been in a mutual gaining relationship.  But I realized that I had really enjoyed the last three months.  And we’d only have three more months together, and then she would be Brad’s.  Forever.  So why not make the most of what time we had left?

“You got it, babe,” I answered.  “Let’s pack on some pounds together.”

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Chapter 9

We went to the discount clothing store nearby to get me some new pants.  I was wearing gym shorts with an elastic band that dug into my waist.  I had gotten to know this store well over the last couple of months.  This was where we came each time Denise went up a size.  Or two.  We could get a couple of outfits without breaking the bank.  She was due for another upsize anyway, and now it was also my turn.

Denise got a pair of yoga pants that were just a little too big for her.  We knew that wouldn’t last.  Then we went to the Men’s section.  I had always been a 34.  “Guess it’s time for a pair of 36’s,” I said.  Denise snorted with laughter.

“You’re in denial, big boy.  But go ahead, try on some 36’s.”  I grabbed a pair of khakis and went into the changing room.  I got them on, but they were snug.  A little too snug. I took them off and went back out.

“I guess 38’s will be more comfortable.”  Denise smiled and picked two pair of 38’s off the rack.  And two pair of 40’s.

“Just to save us a trip,” she said with a wink.  She also picked out a couple of shirts, extra large, a first for me.

When we left the store, it was lunchtime. Denise spoke up as we were pulling out of the parking lot. “Let’s go to the Happy Tummy Chinese Buffet, sweetie.  Maybe today you’ll be able to eat as much as I can.”  I was game, in fact a little excited by the idea.  We pulled in, parked, walked in, got a table and headed to the buffet.  I let Denise get in the buffet line ahead of me.  “I’m counting on you to fill your plate as much as I do, Jim.”  With that, she piled her plate with a variety of Chinese dishes, so that it became a single mound of food threatening to overflow the plate.  Then, with a smile, she added three egg rolls on top.  Okay, challenge accepted.  I piled my plate, and I think I did pretty well.  I thought about doing her one better and put four egg rolls on top of mine, but I thought about how embarrassing it would be to have them go rolling off.  Besides, you can go back as many times as you want to.

We sat down and went to work.  By the time we finished every last bite, I leaned back and rubbed my taunt belly.  “Wow.  I’m stuffed.”

“Amateur,” Denise smiled at me, got up and filled another plate.  Just as high.  I couldn’t just give up, so I went and filed another plate.  But not as high.  I knew I’d never get it down.  We ate our second rounds, and I was painfully stuffed.

“No more,” I groaned.  “I give up.”  Denise smiled again and went and got her third plate.  I was in awe.  I knew she was showing off.  She had been stretching her stomach for over three months, so it was no surprise that she could out eat me.  By a lot.  Which was fine, since the whole point was still to fatten her up.  I was along for the ride.  Denise ate her third plateful, which took as long as the first two combined.  She had reached her limit.  Almost.

“Can’t forget dessert,” she said with an evil grin.  “I’ll get some for both of us.”  I was going to protest, but there was no point.  There was no stopping her.  She came back with the plateful of small cakes.  “Don’t worry, I’m going to share.”  She saw my reluctance and said, “You can do it.  I’ll help you.”  She put one of the little cakes in my mouth, then one in hers.  She went back and forth, one for me and one for her until they were gone.  I’d never been so stuffed in my life.  “C’mon, let’s get you home.  I think you need a nap.”

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Chapter 10

Our roles changed a little after that.   Denise took on a more active role in cooking.  Which was good, since I was starting to repeat my recipes.  Usually we worked together on dinner, with both of us drinking calorie bomb cocktails.  Kahlua and Cream was a favorite, but White Russians were a close second.  Denise was still the bigger eater, as she was still trying to gain as much as she could.  I wasn’t as dedicated about it, I just ate heartily and let my waistline take care of itself.

By the end of month four, Denise was up to 270 pounds, which meant she’d packed on another 17 pounds in the last month.  Meanwhile, I busted the 200 pound milestone, in fact I was up to 203 pounds.  I’d gained almost as much in the last month as I had in the previous three.  Well I was kind of working at it now.  We were both relishing our expanding bodies.  During sex we squeezed and kneaded each other’s fat rolls.  When Denise would get on top, she would lay her huge belly on mine as she lowered herself to take me in.  She would pump, back and forth, back and forth, a vision of jiggly fat.  It was a struggle not to come too early, seeing that vision of fat beauty rocking on me, but I wanted to give Denise time to reach her own orgasm.  When she would start to come, there was no holding me back and I would explode in her.

We still took pictures of Denise every week, documenting her amazing growth.  We had to move her chair farther back from the table to give her mound of a belly room.  For fun she took pictures of me in the same position, with my growing belly on display.  Those weren’t for sending to Brad, though.  But Denise was loving it.  “I wonder which one of you will be fatter when Brad comes back?  He was running about 250 when he left.  Think I can put 50 pounds on you in the two months we have left?”

I laughed.  “You’re welcome to try, babe.  Just don’t forget that our mission is still to fatten you up.”

“Don’t worry about that,” she answered.  “I’ve got two months left, and when Brad walks in I plan to be a 300 pound fiancé.”  She wasn’t kidding.  She ate like she was possessed.  I tried to keep up, and my stomach capacity was also expanding.  At the end of the fifth month, she weighed in at 286 pounds.  I clocked in at 215.   The 40 inch pants were too tight on me, and Denise went out and got me 42’s and 44’s.  I couldn’t imagine ever being fat enough to need 44’s, and said so to Denise.  “Try them on,” she said.  “See how loose they are.”  I put them on and realized I didn’t have that far to go.

When Denise sent her latest belly photos to Brad, his response seemed muted.  “Glad you’re enjoying yourself.  Working hard here.”  I didn’t say anything, but I could tell that Denise was troubled by his lack of enthusiasm.  “When I break 300,” she said, “I’m not going to tell Brad.  Just imagine the surprise when he gets back and sees his big beautiful girlfriend.”  I hoped she was right.  She’d put everything into getting as fat as she could for him.  Yes, she enjoyed eating and enjoyed getting bigger, but she wouldn’t have put nearly so much effort into it if not for him.  As for myself, I knew that when Denise hit 300 pounds, I would be the first one to enjoy sex with her.  The idea thrilled me, although I had a little pang of guilt knowing that I would be the one to celebrate that milestone with her, not her future husband.  Well, he’d offered the deal and I had taken it.  No time for regrets, now.  And my head swam when I thought of her at 300 pounds.

The weekly weigh-ins became more exciting as she closed in on 300.  At the end of the first week of month six, she hit 289.  Week two saw her hit 293.  She needed to gain seven pounds in two weeks.  The third week, she gained three pounds to reach 296.  She was disappointed, but determined.  “I’m going to gain at least four pounds in seven days,” she exclaimed.  “At least.”  She had gotten a text from Brad that he would arrive on Sunday.  She ate nearly continuously.  When she was awake, she was eating.  Heavy meals, milk shakes, calorie bomb cocktails, cookies, cakes, pies, brownies, on and on and on.  On Saturday, the day before Brad was due back, Denise nervously stepped on the scale.  “I can’t look,” she said.  “You’ll have to read it for me.”  Actually, nervous or not she wouldn’t be able to see the numbers on the scale.  Her belly had grown to the point that she had to lean way over to read it, and usually lost her balance.  Anyway, I walked over and looked at the display.

“Congratulations, Denise.  You weigh 301 pounds.”

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This is the last chapter.  I hope everyone enjoyed it.

Chapter 11

Out of habit, we weighed me, too.  I had hit 225.  Another ten pounds since last month.  Standing on the scale, I looked at the two of us.  I was beyond chubby.  My belly stuck way out in front of me, and was starting to hang.  My face was fleshy and I had a double chin.  While most of my weight went to my belly, I’d picked up some in my butt.  I was one chunky guy.

Denise was a 301 pound goddess.  Her red hair framed a cherubic face, with her green eyes sparkling over chubby cheeks and her double chin.  Below her chin, her breasts jutted out, great round orbs, resting comfortably on an enormous belly.  Her hips were broad and soft, her butt stuck out prominently.  Her legs had also picked up some of the weight, making them thick and shapely. 

And tomorrow I’d be handing her back to Brad.  I was going to be getting a nice payday, but that seemed like a weak consolation prize now.  Denise looked at me, and I wondered if she felt the same way.  But I couldn’t say anything.  She was engaged to Brad.  She glanced over her shoulder at the bed and back at me.  “One last time?” she asked.

“Sure.” I answered.

Brad had texted that he would come to my condo at 1PM.  In fact, that’s all his text said.  Nothing about looking forward to seeing Denise, or showing her weight gain to his mother.  Just that he’d show up at 1.

Denise and I had a typical Sunday Brunch feast.  Scrambled eggs with cream, biscuits with gravy, bacon and sausage.  And lots of it.  We were both big eaters now.  After brunch Denise went and packed.  There wasn’t a lot to pack.  All the clothes that she outgrew had gone to charity, so she only had to pack a few outfits and her toiletries.  I played a video game to keep me occupied until Brad arrived.  One PM came and went.  He was late.  I assumed he was coming straight for the airport, so delays were inevitable.

At 1:30 my doorbell rang.  It was time.  Denise had come out from the bedroom wearing shorts and a peasant blouse slightly too small.  Which let her belly peek out, which was the point I was sure.  We looked at each other.  Did she feel the same way I did?  Hoping that Brad would never show up?  I shook off those thoughts.  There was no point.  I went over and opened the door.  And of course, it was Brad.

Although it wasn’t Brad as I expected him.  The Brad I’d met six months before probably weighed about 250.  This Brad had to be under 200.  This wasn’t a fat Brad.  This was a Brad that had been not only dieting, but working out.  His shoulders were deep and muscular, his waist was trim.  I almost didn’t recognize him.

Brad spoke first, which was good because I was still processing the new Brad.  “Hi Jim,” and he looked beyond me at Denise. “You certainly kept up your part of the bargain.”  Denise stepped forward, obviously uncertain of how to greet him.

“Brad, what happened?  You were my chubby honey when you left.  Now…?”

“I started losing weight as soon as I got there, Denise.  We worked hard and I spent a lot of time in the field, eating the local food.  Which wasn’t great.  Besides, everyone there was in the gym, and just to fit in, I started going too.  Weight started falling off pretty quickly.  And I found out that I liked it.”

“But we’re still getting married, aren’t we?  You still love me, right?”

Brad looked down for a moment, then back at Denise.  “I, uh, met someone in the gym, Denise.   We’re together now.  I’m sorry.”  He turned to me.  “I’m still paying you, of course.  A deal’s a deal.  That’s $1000 a pound, so how much….?” he trailed off.

“94 pounds.  Do you want to weigh her?”  Brad wasn’t my favorite guy right then.

“Let’s make it an even $100,000.  Mom has cut me in on the estate, so money isn’t a problem.”  I thought about telling him where he could put his $100,000, and I hoped every last buck of it fit.  But I didn’t know what direction my life was taking next, and having $100,000 in the bank sounded like a good idea.  So I just nodded.

“Again, I’m sorry Denise.  I should have told you, but in every text you were so happy about every pound you gained, I just couldn’t stand to disappoint you.  But now that I’m back, I had to face up to it.  Well, I’d better leave.”  We didn’t shake hands, he just turned around and walked away.  I closed the door.  I turned around and Denise was crying.  I went over and hugged her.  She felt so very good.

“I did it for him,” she cried.  “I stuffed myself day after day, making myself fatter, for him.  Now look at me.  I’m over 300 pounds.  What am I going to do now?”

I looked at her.  “You think no one will want you now, Denise?  Is that what you’re worried about?”  She hiccupped and nodded.  “Well, I can’t speak for the rest of the world, but I know about me.  I want you.  I want you a lot.”  There it was.  I had said it, and it hung there between us.

“We’ve always had a connection, haven’t we?” she responded.  “And there’s no doubt you like me fat, don’t you?”  I nodded and grinned.  I couldn’t think of anything else to say.  “So are you going to try to make me fatter?” she said, with a hint of a crooked smile.

“I am what I am, Denise.  But you know I won’t try to force it on you.  It’s up to you.”

“That’s right, it is up to me, isn’t it?  But you know what else?  I really enjoyed helping to fatten you up.   How much do you weigh now?  225?”  I nodded.  “I don’t think I like the idea of outweighing my boyfriend by over 75 pounds.  I think I’m going to have to make sure you weigh more than I do.”

I laughed.  “So I guess I’m gaining 75 pounds?  Sounds like fun.”

Denise laughed, too.  “That’s 75 pounds if I don’t gain anymore.  What do you think the chances of that are?  I think we’re going to become a very, very big couple.”

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I think the ending was rushed. No one commented on the guys wg, the boyfriend just came in a broke up with her and left. Idk...the rest of the story was great. Maybe you should have continued it one more chapter to finish the story more completely. This is just my opinion, don’t mean to upset anyone. 

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