Author's Note: Thanks for the patience this weekend, I've decided to take a break this from "The Queen of Cabin Nine," I'll return to it next week. This week I have a 2,500 word update to "The Double Date" and a 3,000 word one-off called simply "Hangry". I hope you enjoy!
Thanks for your support!
-Polaris
P.S. I also attached a PDF of the full Double Date story so far so people can view it all in one place if they want.
...............................................................
The Double Date
Part 3
With Grace’s guidance, I recommitted to gaining weight. I followed her method and indulged to my heart’s content more than I ever had before. Week by week, as I made a pig of myself, I felt my clothes grow tighter and tighter, while my naturally athletic frame slowly filled out into a softer bottom-heavy figure. I could tell Caleb was loving every inch of fat that found its way upon my body, our physical chemistry seemed to reach greater and greater heights with every additional pound I gained.
Four months into dating Caleb, my already thick butt had inflated with fat and had been spreading both outward and sideways in mass. My stomach, once lean and thin, was developing a convex curve to it. It softened into mush and fat began to pool into one big roll of pudge just above my waistband. As a result, my friends began teasing me that I’d gained some relationship weight. It was little pokes and prods at first, but then my bloated belly went and knocked Chelsea’s drink over when I was trying to squeeze by her on my way from the bar to the bathroom…
“Yikes Anna, you better start cutting back on the beers, it looks like someone’s been putting on a little weight.” Chelsea savagely accused with a poke to my swollen midsection causing it to jiggle a bit like jello.
“*Burp!* it’s only 15 pounds!” I lied, blushing fiercely, knowing it was closer to 25. I must have looked like a fool in denial in my formerly flattering clothes that were now certainly undersized on me. Where once they highlighted my slim waist and toned extremities, now my revealing clothes were drawing attention to my problem areas, mainly my newly minted beer belly and oversized backside.
“Tell that to your pants.” Chelsea smirked, pointing downward and making me realize the button holding my jeans together had snapped off sometime earlier in the night when I’d been drinking at the bar with Caleb and the others.
“Ugh! You’re just jealous!” I stammered before concealing my stomach with my arms as best I could, and storming off to the bathroom.
She was jealous, I just knew it. Who wouldn’t be? Caleb was wonderful in every way, but it was also true that I was looking progressively more and more out of shape with each food-filled day. At 5’5 and 145 pounds, I wasn’t overweight, not yet. I’d just developed a bit of a tummy, well… A gut. Like, a beer gut.
Entering the bar’s bathroom in a huff, I was greeted by a reflection of myself in the mirror with a very squishy looking midriff. I couldn’t help voicing my thoughts, as I pinched an inch of my newfound gut, “Jeez... I really am blowing up… Feel like I’m gonna pop… *Burp!*”
I looked different, I had my same old hair style, same old clothing style, but with a bigger midsection, everything I wore just looked so… ill fitting. It was kind of embarrassing. My tummy was making my shirt ride up. My jeans were unbuttoned. And no matter how hard I tried; I couldn’t fasten them again.
“I need to go shopping…” I admitted to myself, before finishing up in the bathroom, and returning to Caleb.
Over the next two months, muffin tops, popped buttons and burst seams became a common occurrence in my life. Caleb couldn’t get enough of the new me. Thanks to the physical affection he constantly showered me with, I felt less and less self-conscious about reaching for seconds when out in public with friends, or around my own family. Word was going around that I was gaining weight, and although only a small number of people actually said anything about it to my face, like my mother and Chelsea, their negative judgement did little to slow me down.
Six months into my relationship with Caleb, I was pushing 160 pounds. I’d gained just about 40 pounds since I learned Caleb’s secret. As before, my butt, hips, thighs and belly bore the brunt of the additional fat I’d pumped onto my figure, but now the extra weight seemed to also add a layer of softness all across my body. My lower body looked bigger, but I was looking softer everywhere. I could see it in my face, my arms, my back, even my neck and chin. I’d gone from fit and skinny, to thin with a big butt and beer belly, to officially pudgy in what felt like no time at all.
To anyone else I’d gone from having an exceptional figure to a merely normal one according to the current standards of American society, but I knew that for Caleb the reverse was true. To him, my weight didn’t detract from my beauty, it added to it. No, multiplied it.
So, for our six-month anniversary I decided to put my knowledge of Caleb’s secret fetish, and my newfound extra weight to good use. First, I had Caleb take me to a pricey Italian restaurant. Then I somehow managed to squeeze into a short red cocktail dress layered over lingerie that wasn’t much more than string. I was flaunting my enlarged gut and butt, even my breasts which had received a modest boost from all the calories I was consuming.
It pleased me to see that Caleb’s eyes were feasting on me like I was about to feast on fancy Italian food.
We started with cocktails, and breadsticks. Once upon a time, one of each was enough to fill me up and get me to a tipsy place, now it took two cocktails before I felt anything and four breadsticks before my stomach started feeling like it wasn’t empty. My capacity for overindulging had increased more rapidly than I had realized. After a third cocktail, our appetizer arrived, we ordered charcuterie, and I gulped down the prosciutto faster than I would popcorn.
In order to indulge Caleb’s secret desires, all I had to do was indulge myself, and indulging had become easy. If I’m being honest, it had become second nature really. While my appetizers, bread and liquor began to make my belly bloat, another cocktail wet my whistle when the main course arrived. I demolished my risotto with a speed and ferociousness I don’t think Caleb had ever seen from me before. He looked like a mixture between dumbfounded, concerned, and impressed. While I licked my dish clean to show off, he seemed to find his words.
“I didn’t know you were so hungry.” Caleb noted trying to contain a grin and avoid eye-f*cing my bloated belly. It was so funny when he got all shy. Nothing boosted my drunken confidence more.
“What can I say? Italian food is my weakness.” I expressed, tilting my head upward, and leaning back into my chair to give my boyfriend the best possible view of the swelling stomach of mine that my dress was straining at the seams to contain.
“We should come here more often then.” Caleb replied sounding to me like he was joking. Yet, I knew his sarcastic tone had to be a defense mechanism. He loved the fact that I was gaining weight, his actions spoke volumes. He’d love it if I ate with such reckless abandonment more often. He worshipped my growing body and his every living breath waited on ensuring my every want and need was satisfied.
“Not unless you want a fat girlfriend.” I teased with a stupid smile on my face, unable to control myself in my drunken and stuffed stupor. His eyes lingered for a moment on the way my left hand meaded my stuffed belly like dough.
“All I want is a happy girlfriend.” Caleb replied, breaking off eye contact with my stomach and changing the subject, “Should we ask for the check and get out of here?”
“After dessert.” I grunted, reaching for a menu and looking it over. I was honestly so full the thought of dessert actually made me feel a little sick. Or maybe it was all the vodka?
“Dessert? Are you sure you can handle dessert?” Caleb doubted me. Unknowingly providing me the only motivation I needed to commit to my plan of action.
“I want cheesecake. I can always take it home if I don’t finish it.” I assured him, while subconsciously continuing to play with my gut. I couldn’t resist, it was just too distracting.
“Fine, cheesecake it is.” Caleb shrugged, unable to keep himself from smiling.
“You gotta order something too. I don’t want to be the only one ordering dessert. Our waitress will think I’m a fatass.” I urged my lovely boyfriend.
“Who cares what our waitress thinks? You’re not a fatass.” Caleb replied trying to sooth me on the surface, but his response actually had the opposite effect.
‘You’d love it if I was a fatass… How big do I have to get to qualify under your definition of a fatass? I wonder…’ My thoughts raced internally, as our waitress arrived to take our dessert orders.
She returned a few minutes later with my cheesecake and a cannoli for Caleb.
“Mind if I have a bite of your cannoli? It looks good.” I drooled too drunk to hide my actual envy. I don’t know why, but Caleb usually ordered better looking food than I did. Maybe it was a case of the grass being greener on the other side of the fence, but I’ve gotten him to switch meals with me on at least a dozen occasions, but tonight was different. I wasn’t going to switch desserts with him. I was going to eat both for myself.
“Not at all. Here you go.” Caleb smiled, handing me his cannoli.
Without any other word or hesitation, I proceeded to take bite after bite of his cannoli until it was well and truly gone. Caleb’s eyes widened as I moaned and groaned with satisfaction.
“That was soooo good!” I chirped before widening my eyes and acting like I was just discovering what I’d done, “Oh my gosh, did I eat it all??”
“Yeah, you did.” Caleb noted not sounding judgmental at all. He sounded fascinated. Impressed even.
“I am sooo sorry! I don’t know what came over me!” I replied, feigning ignorance.
“I guess it was just too good to resist. I’ll never know.” Caleb joked, pretending like he was disappointed he didn’t get a bite.
Calling his bluff, I reached over and grabbed his collar, and muttered, “Have a taste!”
Then I planted a big fat smooch on his lips a second later. The instant our lips touched, it was obvious to me he liked the taste my mouth had to offer. His tongue was eager to dance with my own. We left the restaurant 15 minutes later in a cloud of tipsy laughter, and horny anticipation.
By the time we got home, the weight of my overindulgence was beginning to settle in the depths of my stomach. I felt as if I had swallowed a bowling ball. I knew I should have gotten a box for my cheesecake, but I’d wanted to put on a show, and I think I succeeded.
Caleb was all over me. He lifted off my tight red dress and caressed my bloated stomach before kissing his way from my gut up to my face. While we swapped spit, I unbuttoned his shirt and pants, and we stumbled into his bedroom and fell onto his bed. Summoning my courage, and every ounce of strength I had, I climbed on top of him, my swollen body completely on display, and rubbed my stomach like the girls in all the videos I’d watched.
His eyes widened.
I’d never had his complete attention like this before. In my drunken and overfed stupor, I couldn’t contain my excited thoughts, “Hmhm! Hey babe, do you think I’ve put on a little weight recently?? I swear I had abs like a month ago, now my stomach just feels… kinda fat. Feel it!”
His hands rose upward and cradled my love handles, steadying me, “You’re looking a little curvier, and I hope you know, I absolutely love it.”
“You do? Hmhm!” I couldn’t help but blush with slight embarrassment. In my mind I was fat, in his, I was… just curvy?
“I do.” Caleb assured me, grabbing onto the pocket of fat below my hip and squeezing with clear satisfaction on his face, “Do you?”
I tried to stay present, but my mind was keen on detaching from my body for a moment. I certainly loved the way my escalating weight commanded Caleb’s attention, but I had certainly not enjoyed outgrowing so many of my favorite clothes, or the snide comments from my family and friends. Then I thought back to the process I’d used to transform myself into the woman of Caleb’s dreams. Clearly, I was still a work in progress for him, bigger was better, and I’d only realistically gotten a little bigger so far.
‘So far?’ I thought to myself, realizing in that instant that I had no intension of stopping this new freeing lifestyle I’d adopted. Not yet.
It was then, I responded, “The curvy life’s not bad, I feel so sexy when you touch me like this.”
“Like this?” Caleb echoed reaching upward and pulling my weight more on top of him so he could give me a kiss.
My ridiculously full belly lay just on top of his firmer and flatter stomach, squashing into him, and anchoring me in place. I felt a mix of emotions, guilt for how much I’d overeaten, and excitement for the affection Caleb was giving me. My thoughts were running wild. Caleb rolled me over and we started having sex. It didn’t take long for Caleb to get me close.
Trying to delay the inevitable, I started letting my mind slip out of the moment, thinking of something non-sexual just to make him work a little bit harder before experiencing the satisfaction of getting me off. I imagined living with Caleb, moving into his apartment, and him cooking for me, pampering me, spoiling me, fattening me up for his amusement.
“Ugh!”
He’d make me breakfast in bed, coaxed me to finish my second and third helpings of lunch and dinner.
“Ugggh!”
Keeping me well fed was his way of showing love, there was nothing he wanted more than to take care of me.
“Ughhhh!!”
I started to imagine him feeding me chocolate strawberries on valentines day, soup when I was sick… a whole sheet cake on my birthday…
“Uuggghhhh!!!”
In an instant, I forgot about the food, after all the food was just a means to an end, wasn’t it? Suddenly I started imagining myself growing just a little bit bigger and fatter. Fatter than Grace. As fat as some of those feedee girls I’d seen during my research of Caleb’s fetish. I imagined what it would feel like to grow so fat that I’d become helpless, powerless, and completely dependent upon Caleb to take care of me.
“UuugggghhH!!! Caleb!! I’m! I’m!!”
I wanted Caleb to desire me, I wanted him to feed me, make me grow fatter and fatter until he’d trained me so well, I’d greet him at the door when he got home with cans of whipped cream and consume them for his amusement whenever he gave his signal.
It was only after I came, hard, that I realized my submissive brain had crossed a line… Oops.