I had met my husband Gary in college when we were both getting our Master
s degree in Geology. We got married soon after graduation, and then we
both got jobs for the same big oil company. Not only that, but by being
married, we managed to get sent to the same assignments.
The main purpose of our jobs was to look for oil. We went around the world
studying soil samples and geological surveys to determine if there was
oil and, if oil was found, whether or not it was ready to be processed.
Sometimes oil is found that needs another million years in the ground to
be fit for commercial use.
The first year we were married we were sent to the Middle East, the second
year, California. So it was a cultural and climactic change for our third
year when we were sent to far northern Canada. We knew it would often be
extremely cold for most of the year, but we didn't mind, we enjoyed the
exotic locations. And it would only be for a year or two.
The setup was the same as the other places, only the temperature was
different. The company owned a big lodge in the tiny village of about 200
people. The lodge was big enough for several employees and their spouses
to live in; it was almost a commune. Married couples had their own bedroom
and bathroom, but we shared a kitchen and living area. The lab was a short
hike from the lodge.
When we got there we met two other couples, Bob and Judy and Frank and
Liz. I was the unusual wife because I was the only one who was employed by
the company; Bob and Frank were geologists, while Judy was hired by the
company to be the lodge s cook, and Liz was a doctor who ran her practice
from an addition built on the side of the lodge.
What also made me different was my size. Judy and Liz were both heavy-set,
very matronly types, Judy weighed a little over 200 I guessed, and Liz was
larger, at about 250. They were well proportioned, with full, round faces,
large breasts, bellies and behinds. They would never be considered flabby
at all. They weren't ashamed of their figures at all, and despite the
temperature, would walk around in shorts and t-shirts. On sunny days, they
d even wear one or two-piece bathing suits to go outside and sunbathe. I
got cold just looking at them. I figured they were used to the
temperatures.
But as it turns out, this was the norm for the town. As the two women
would take me out to show me around, I discovered that all the women were
heavy-set, plump, or just plain fat.
I had silently admired buxom women, and wished for a full hourglass figure
for myself, but since I had come from Los Angeles, where a bikini is on
the state seal, I felt it necessary to fit in with a petite 110 pound, 5 3
frame. All the other women on the beaches on L.A. would make me very diet
conscious. So come dinner time, Judy would make us a huge dinner, and the
men and women would eat it ravenously, I stuck with a small portion of
vegetables and skim milk.
Things in our new location didn't work out well to begin with because
after one week at the lodge I came down with a respiratory illness that
put me out of commission, I didn't have to go to the hospital, but Liz
ordered me to stay in bed, giving me antibiotics.
The only comfort I had was when my husband would come to bed with me at
night and keep me warm.
The following week, just as I was getting over the infection, I was
catching cold.
It was pretty obvious I wasn't making the adjustment to the climate at
all. My husband felt bad dragging me up north, and me getting sick, but I
told him I d get over it, and adjust.
After almost three weeks of feeling bad, Liz was by to check up on me. She
had just given me a physical and I was telling her how miserable I was
feeling.
She sat down on the bed and said, It s time I leveled with you Sue. It s
been very obvious to me why you re always getting sick. I've just been
hesitant to tell you because I'm not sure how you d take it.
Tell me, I said sitting up in my bed.
You obviously can t adjust to the cold, and the reason for that is
simple, you don t have enough body fat to keep you warm. I know you came
from California, where everyone lives on cottage cheese and tofu; but it s
just not practical to be skinny this far north. She then told me that all
the women in the area would be considered plump by American standards, but
up here, it was practical.
Then she looked at me straight in the the eye. If you want to stay here,
and stay healthy, you re going to have to fatten up.
We talked it over some more, and at night. I thought about it during
dinner. Later that night, I lied in bed shivering, when my husband came to
our room. Quick, come and keep me warm, I said. He climbed in bed with
me and we snuggled. I told him what the doctor said, She suggested I put
on 10 to 20 pounds. What do you think?
Gary smiled, If you re worried I won t love you anymore if you put on a
little weight, that s just silly, he assured me. He said my health was
more important than being fashionable in the states, and that he loved me,
not my weight.
It s not that I wanted my husband s approval, but I did want to consult
him though. And it seemed after talking to him that a person would never
think twice if her doctor ordered her to lose weight, and here I was,
reluctant to listen to a doctor tell me to gain weight, I realized she was
right.
I put on a bathrobe and walked down the hall. I knocked on Liz s door, and
asked her what I d have to do to fatten up. She told me she already worked
out a menu for me, and that she d give it to Judy, and to report to her
office first thing in the morning.
Monday morning, I woke up and went straight to Liz s office. She greeted
me, and told me to take off my robe, she pulled out a clipboard and told
me to step on the scale, she wrote down 110, then she took out a tape
measure and took my bust, waist and hip measurements while taking my
temperature. She asked if I felt well enough to go to work today, and I
told her I didn't, she then told me to go to the kitchen.
The men had just finished their breakfasts and had left for the lab. Judy
was there though working the stove. Just sit down, she smiled, I have
breakfast just about ready for you.
I sat at the table, and she put a large plate in front of me, it was piled
high with big stack of french toast, sausage, and two apples, she then set
a large glass of whole milk on the table, I looked at Liz who just came
into the kitchen. This is three times what I usually eat.
You can t grow fat on just carrot sticks.
I smiled at her, picked up my fork, and as I cut through the french toast,
thick syrup and melted butter drained out of it, two things I had always
deprived myself of. I put the forkful in my mouth and it melt there. It
was delicious. I decided that maybe this wouldn't be as bad as I thought.
With encouragement and prodding from the two other women, I finished off
my plate, though it was tough going; toward the end I had to loosen the
sash of my bathrobe to accommodate my growing belly.
When I swallowed the last sausage, the women applauded me. I sat back in
my chair with my hand on my taut belly. I smiled and let out a sigh. Liz
told me to go to bed, and Judy would be up with lunch in about four hours.
Tomorrow, she added, if you feel well enough to go to work, we ll start
on an exercise regiment; we want you to be fat and fit.
Judy brought up a huge lunch, then at night we sat down for a huge dinner.
The three couples sat at the table, as Judy put out our servings. No one
really noticed that Judy was giving me extra servings, except for me
husband, who looked at me and smiled.
The next day my routine was pretty much the same, only I had gone to work;
but my schedule for the next few months was set: I d first check in with
Liz to get weighed and measured, Judy would have a huge breakfast for me,
then I d go off to work. I d come back to the lodge for a nutritious
lunch, then back to work, then back home again for dinner. By then I was
so full, everyday felt like Thanksgiving. But the feeling would pass after
dinner when the two women and I would go for a brisk walk or jog; or to
the high school gym for some aerobics.
By Saturday morning; I was getting dressed, and it started to show. I
tried pulling on my jeans but I couldn't. The flaps at the zipper wouldn't
come together; there was just too much belly to fit in my jeans. My
husband stepped out of the bathroom to see me struggling into my jeans. He
grinned at me, reached forward and rubbed my rounded belly, Such a cute,
sexy belly. he said.
I'm trying to get ready to go to breakfast but I don t think I can get
these pants on.
That s okay, he said, Slip out of them, and I ll bring you breakfast in
bed.
He kissed me then left the room, I got back in bed and he came back with a
Judy specialty, pancakes, some eggs, bacon, muffins and some apples.
He got in bed with me and watched me eat, If I didn't know you better, I
d say you were getting turned on by me getting bigger.
He admitted it was a little exciting.
We spent the rest of the day in bed, he would bring me my meals, watch me
eat, or in some cases, feed me, then we would make love.
But it was so easy to plump up in this town. Gary and I would go out for
dinner, and my portion would always be bigger than his. Or we d go out for
ice cream, and my scoops were always bigger than his. We met other
couples, like the Makowskis, Willits and Walshes, who would invite us over
their homes for diner. Appetizers were followed by a big dinner, and that
was followed by a rich dessert. It was if the town was conspiring to
fatten me up.
Over the next four months, I gained an average ten pounds a month. I was
feeling too good to stop at 150, and under the advice of Liz, and
prompting form the neighbors, I continued to grow larger and larger. The
fat that accumulated in my belly, breasts and buns did have an effect in
keeping me warm.
In addition to buying new clothes, I was borrowing hand-me-downs from Judy
and Liz. One day Judy and I were in Judy s closets, finding clothes for
me, when I came across a photo album, I slowly opened it up and saw
pictures of a thin blonde and thin brunette. I looked closer, and realized
it was Judy and Liz. She noticed me looking at it, Oh, they re just some
pictures of me and Liz when we first came here three years ago.
I flipped the pages and and in each progressive picture, Judy and Liz
filled out more and more.
The town took care of us. They brought more food than we knew what to do
with. It was just a matter of time before we filled out.
You mean they intentionally fattened you up?
She smiled, With our full consent. It s custom around here. This goes
back hundreds of years, the settlers in this town found out that the
fatter women could survive better here; and have an easier time with child
bearing, and raising. So it was important to fatten the women, and
encourage them to stay that way.
I was right, the whole town was in on fattening me up.
Sure didn't you know that? That s why your Gary requested this town. She
blushed, I thought you knew you were married to an FA. All the women who
take this assignment usually return with about 100 more pounds. That s
been a turn off to some couples, but people like Judy and I really aren't
fixated on our weights, so we didn't mind when our husbands were assigned
here.
An interesting development, I thought.
Then I turned the page of the photo album again. Toward the end I saw
pictures from a party, What s this? The party was in a hall and all the
town s chubby women were wearing one and two piece bathing suits.
She smiled, Well I guess it s time you learned a little about another
tradition around. When a girl turns 16 they start fattening her up until
her 18th birthday party, or until she gets to 195 pounds or so. Then they
have a growing out party for her. The idea is to throw an all-day party
around her, put her on a scale and feed her until she hits 200 pounds. It
s kind of like a coming out party, but this symbolizes her growing out of
her girlish clothes and becoming a woman. It s a big community event. And
they also throw it for newcomers. These pictures are from my party. The
women dress scantily to show they re not ashamed of their bodies, and they
re comfortable with the climate.
Doesn't this seem weird to you?
Not as weird as an American coming out party, or wedding, or prom where a
girl has to starve herself to fit into a skimpy gown.
How come there haven t been any growing out parties since I've been here?
There have been, she said, Only you haven t been invited because you
haven t had a coming out party of your own. The only women invited are
already over 200 pounds.
That night I confronted Gary who confessed that he knew that all the women
who returned from this village came back fatter. And he had intentionally
requested this assignment because he wanted me to stop being so weight
conscious, and wanted me to plump up a little, but he was afraid to ask
me.
I told him that he was silly for not telling me all this, but he was
right, I was too weight conscious, but now, things would be different, and
I would do everything I could to have a growing out party thrown for me.
In the following months I redoubled my efforts, eating all of Judy s
meals, then snacking in-between. At night before going to bed, I would
have some chocolate ice cream with chocolate syrup, my favorite. Soon I
had a beautiful round protruding belly, heavy, globular breasts and
curvier hips. It was fun checking in with the doctor each morning,
standing on her scale and watching the numbers climbs, as she found it
more and more difficult to wrap a tape measure around my belly.
Six months later, I had done it, I was up to 195. Liz congratulated me,
and told the townspeople. The party was scheduled.
On my big day, Judy got me ready. In her bedroom she had given me the
traditional garb for this occasion. It was a little skimpy. It was a tight
bikini bottom, a bikini top and a bodice that had straps that went around
my neck, and it laced up in the front up to where the bikini top s cups
met. She laced me up tightly, confining my round, soft belly. When I asked
her what it was for, she told me that when I reached 200, to untie the
bodice, to symbolize my growing out of my old clothes.
The party was in the town hall. I arrived late as was the custom for the
guest of honor. At first my clothes made me feel a little self-conscious
until I saw all the other women in one or two-piece bathing suits, proudly
showing off their bellies. A large reclining chair was set up on an
industrial scale set in the center of the hall. I was led to it by the
mayor. When I sat down, a digital read out-above my head read 195.
Let the feasting begin, the mayor said. A band started playing, and food
was carried out from the kitchen and brought to all the tables. It was
like any wedding reception or banquet. The only difference was the cause
of celebration and rituals.
The woman of each household was to bring a dish to share with the
community, and a dish for me. The women lined up; fat, chubby women lined
up to admit me to their club. Fortunately, Judy told me what to expect, so
I hadn't eaten the whole day. Now I was hungry.
Mrs. Makowski brought up a large plate of pasta with cheese sauce. She sat
the the side of the scale and fed me with a fork, putting each delicious
forkful in my mouth. After a few minutes, I finished the dish, and rubbed
my tummy. The crowd cheered as the number on the scale advanced to 196.
Then Mrs. Willits brought up a large chicken dish with potatoes, which she
fed me slowly, it was very good - and the crowd watched as I polished off
the plate. Once again, the scale advanced one number. I was almost there.
Then Mrs. Walsh came up with a warm apple pie. She cut it up into slices
and fed it to me a wedge at the time. I didn't think I could do it, but
the crowd applauded when she put the last slice in my mouth. And my bodice
was straining at the laces.
I looked up at the scale, it read 199.
And I was so stuffed I couldn't move. I felt like a beached whale. My
belly was packed full, but held in check by the bodice. I don t think I
could eat another bite, until my husband showed up, with a mixing bowl
full of ice cream--with chocolate sauce, my weakness.
He smiled at me, I opened wide and he spooned me the ice cream, each
creamy bite melted in my mouth. Just as I thought my bodice would explode,
he undid the tie and my full belly broke forth, giving me the room to eat
some more.
Finally I took one more swallow and the number flashed 200. Everyone
cheered.
I stood up, proud to be part of the community that took me in. I was
wearing the bodice like a vest, and my unfettered belly hung over my
bikini bottom, I rubbed my belly and thanked everyone, telling them I
would take a bow if I weren't so full.
Months passed and my weight settled in about 210 pounds. Which was
probably my ideal weight anyway. Gone were the colds, and I could walk
around the house, and outside in shorts. Gary liked it best when I walked
around in hot pants and an unbuttoned shirt, tied in a knot right beneath
my breasts. That way he could see my belly and breasts jiggle.
Word came from Corporate that another couple would be moving into the
lodge. Liz introduced me to Francesca, the wife. She was a gaunt little
thing. We shook hands, and she made a sneeze. Excuse me, she said, I'm
not accustomed to this weather yet.
Sit down, I told her, I pulled a carton of ice cream out of the freezer I
think I have just the thing for you.
by Thomas Richards