Steven Moore! She nearly salivated at the opportunity
to learn more about the nearly-reclusive associate
editor. He was unbelievably handsome (and single!),
and the cubicle-dwellers often wondered how such a
nice guy, a real rising-star type, could go home alone
every night. There was speculation that he was gay, or
maybe just sexless, but Melissa fervently hoped
neither of these were true. She frankly adored Steven,
from his wavy brown hair to his wingtip shoes. He had
a real grace and style about him, an old-world kind of
charm. Plus (she grinned to herself), he always
brought donuts on Fridays. And she always ate them-her
voluptuous figure (verging on plump) was testament to
that.
Melissa sighed, thinking of how out-of-reach Steven
was. He'd never ask her out, although she tried
everything she could think of-starvation diets,
fearsome girdles, head-to-toe dark clothing, even
makeup contouring to hide any hint of a double chin.
She did everything possible to keep Steven from seeing
her few extra pounds (175 on a 5' 5" frame). But it
was no good, their relationship never went beyond a
hi-how-are-you in the halls. Steven was a mystery-he
rushed home from work every day to his bachelor pad,
and by his own admission, never went out. What could
he be doing all alone at home? Maybe there was a lover
no one knew of. Perhaps the package in Melissa's
hands held some answer.
She tore into the package, pulling out a thick packet
of paper. On top was a post-it note: "Steve-Where's
the novel you promised me? No more short
stories!--Jay."
Melissa's curiosity was piqued. The packet was a
manuscript of some sort. Aha! Steven wrote fiction!
Well, it made sense-being the associate editor of an
industrial trade magazine couldn't be very fulfilling
for him. She looked at the typed pages, and decided to
take them home to peruse. Steven wouldn't miss it one
more day, and maybe it would give her some insight
into the workings of his mind.
That night, Melissa sat down with the manuscript, a
big glass of milk, and a bag of Oreos. And she began
to read. Anyone watching her would have been extremely
amused, because as she read, her eyes grew wide. Her
jaw dropped. She gasped softly.
Because, you see, Melissa had never encountered an FA
story before, and Steven Moore wrote the best FA
stories in the business. Melissa read on,
simultaneously appalled and aroused. As she read scene
after scene of women gorging themselves, she began to
mechanically cram Oreos into her mouth. She found she
couldn't put down the manuscript, and knew she
wouldn't get up from the sofa until she was done.
"Trini, I only put on two pounds this week!" cried
Melissa in dismay from the bathroom. Trini came in to
look at the scale and did a double-take at Melissa
clutching a too-small towel around her burgeoning
hips.
"Wow, look at the size of your arse! We're gonna need
some bigger towels, huh?" said Trini, noticing how
Melissa's dimpled cheeks poked out from below the
towel's hem.
Melissa twisted to see her widening rear in the
mirror--it was getting like two basketballs back
there. "Wow, it's looking good-but Trini, I'm slowing
down! I'll never get his attention this way!"
Actually, she was getting attention already. Melissa
had put on 36 pounds so far, and her coworkers were
definitely starting to talk. She had to be pregnant,
they whispered outside her closed office door as she
ate her colossal lunches. Melissa heard the rumors,
and decided it was easier to just let them think she
was "eating for two" at the moment. They'd know soon
enough that she was becoming such a lard mountain on
purpose.
Trini's voice broke into her thoughts. "How about you
take the day off? Work from home today, and we'll have
sort of an 'eating marathon'. Feed you up, how about
it?" She grinned conspiratorially.
"Let's do it!" said Melissa, her rounder face breaking
into a sunny smile. So Trini went to the grocery store
to stock up.
The rest of the day was like a haze. Melissa called in
sick, then sat down to a tall stack of buttery
pancakes, half a dozen eggs, a mountain of bacon,
fruit with real whipped cream, a box of donut holes,
and a milkshake. About halfway through the donut
holes, she pushed her chair back and took a deep
breath.
*POP*! The button of her jeans went flying and
ricocheted against the table legs. Melissa laughed,
"Good start, huh? Looks like I'm into a size 22!" She
unzipped the jeans and dug back in. After breakfast,
she walked over to the sofa, feeling the food slosh
inside her. She watched TV for a few hours, by which
time she thought she was probably ready to eat again.
"Let's weigh you now, just to see, huh?" said Trini,
excited as a little girl. She knew most of the gain
would just be the weight of undigested food, but the
thrill of seeing a big number tempted them both.
After the eating marathon, Melissa redoubled her
gaining efforts like an athlete. She had a little less
than four months until Steven was back, and she wanted
to make the most of it. She took up sedentary hobbies,
like reading, needlepoint, writing, crossword puzzles,
and watching movies (mostly at home-as she entered the
250-pound range, movie theater seats got to be a tight
squeeze). She got Trini to start packing snacks for
her at work, and bringing her gigantic lunches right
to the office. She practiced positive thinking for
when the stares and whispers of her dumbfounded
coworkers got to be too much. She photocopied a
picture of Steven and put it up all over her house,
along with some quotes in praise of fat women from his
stories. That way, she remembered her goal at all
times.
"Oh," said Susan in a very small voice. "Okay." She
was frankly stunned, but what else could she say?
Melissa's work was still great, and it wasn't like she
was morbidly obese yet. "I'm going to McDonald's, do
you want some lunch?"
"Do you want a bigger one?" asked Susan. "One without
armrests?"
The party was at a popular buffet restaurant near the
magazine's office. The editors had arranged for them
to have the whole place just for the party. Melissa
and Trini had decided she should show up late, to make
a real appearance.
He stared at her, his heart beating wildly. Could she
really mean what he thought she did? "I bet they would
miss you, too," he said, with equal meaning. "But
they'd want to know you were comfortable in your
working environment. Plus, you could still see each
other-" he cleared his throat, "Outside the office."
Three years later, they were more than happily
married. Steven was having a press conference for his
first book, considered by many to be "the first great
American FA novel." Melissa was a stay-at-home mom to
Steven Junior-and after putting on 100 pounds
post-marriage and more than that during her pregnancy,
she was also the muse of which Steven had always
dreamed. At the press conference, a rookie reporter
called out the tired old question, "Where do you get
your inspiration?"
At that moment Trini stepped into the hallway, slim as
ever, almost boyish with her new, short haircut. "Hey,
I'm no fool. I made three-one for you, one for 'Aunt
Marcy', and one for Stevie and I."
by fa12345
Melissa Briggs had always believed that snooping was
wrong. But if she had to sort the mail for her whole
department, she was going to take the chance to learn
more about her coworkers. Today's mail was a
goldmine-a lingerie catalog for one of the (male,
married) editors, a discreetly wrapped bill from a
dating service for the new girl in accounts payable,
and-she nearly missed it-a package from a well-known
publisher for Steven Moore.
The first story was called "The Freshman 15," and it
was about a girl named Maggie, whose mother had
limited her food intake until the girl went to
college. Seduced by the all-you-can-eat cafeteria at
college, away from her mother's influence, Maggie
began to eat. Three enormous meals each day, plus a
mammoth binge at night. Needless to say, she gained a
lot of weight quite rapidly. The story ended with her
taking a plane home for Thanksgiving, having put on a
hundred and twenty pounds through her summer and fall
terms. "As she asked the flight attendant for a
seatbelt extender, Maggie felt a strange wave of calm
break over her. Once her mother saw all 270 pounds of
her clump into the terminal, she would know there was
no controlling Maggie."
Melissa reached for another cookie, only to realize
she had finished the entire bag. She started on the
next story, which was even more scintillating. It was
about a scientist, Scott, who put his girlfriend Gwen
in this virtual-reality suit and mask for a year, then
fed her a constant intravenous drip of weight-gain
formula. The best thing about this story was that the
girlfriend had no idea she was gaining weight, even
though she went from 210 pounds to 428 pounds. And to
Melissa's shock, there were some incredible sex
scenes.
Melissa finished the story of Scott and Melissa with
an unfamiliar throbbing between her legs. She was
wickedly aroused, and would be more so by the next
story. It was a sort of futuristic spy story with a
560-pound heroine, Ryce. She was a corpulent
martial-arts master who always "got her man," in both
senses. The descriptions of Ryce's martial-arts
battles were nothing short of erotica-it was clear
that Steven had a real knowledge of the female form.
After finishing this third-and last-story, Melissa sat
back, feeling shell-shocked and strangely bereft. She
was sorry to have to finish the stories, because they
were so well-written she could have kept reading all
night.
She thought hard about what she'd read, and a thought
occurred to her in a wave of euphoria: Steven liked
fat women! Well, hallelujah! She realized she'd been
going about things entirely backward-she didn't have
to deprive herself to get Steven Moore at all! Melissa
let out a whoop of joy, and ran upstairs. She pulled
an armful of girdles from her drawer and threw them in
the trash. Her "Contouring Foundation" went in on top
of them. She chose a clingy pastel dress to wear the
next day-no reason for head-to-toe black clothes now!
She looked in her refrigerator and found a jumbo
frozen pizza, which she proceeded to cook and almost
completely eat. As she finished, her tiny, pixieish
roommate Trini came home from work.
Trini entered, tired to the bone but always more than
happy to see Melissa. Amazingly, Melissa was sitting
in front of the TV, picking at the remains of a
nearly-demolished frozen pizza. She wore stretch pants
and a short t-shirt, with clearly no girdle or bra
underneath. The t-shirt was pulling up over Melissa's
belly, distended from the pizza. Trini, who had always
had stronger feelings for Melissa than she would have
liked, was so turned on she couldn't speak for a
moment.
"Cat got your tongue?" said Melissa, smiling. Her
stomach hurt from eating a whole bag of Oreos and
almost an entire pizza, but what did it matter? She
wasn't dieting anymore! She was going to ask Steven
Moore out tomorrow!
"Diet's over! Yaaaaaaaaaaay!" said Trini, springing
into action. Her tiredness was forgotten at the notion
of another post-diet pigout with Melissa. "Shall I
make us some sundaes?"
Melissa groaned. "I don't think I could eat another
thing-I just demolished all our cookies and almost
this whole pizza, too."
"Wow, what's the occasion?" said Trini, sitting down
next to Melissa so that she could better admire her
little potbelly.
Melissa explained about Steven and his book. She
pointed out a few key passages for Trini to read.
Trini's breathing quickened as she read one of the
best scenes from "The Freshman Fifteen," and she
looked up at Melissa. "Is this guy for real?" she
said, marveling that someone shared her taste in
women-although she'd never thought as large as Steven
Moore.
"He's not only for real, he's gorgeous. And I'm asking
him out tomorrow," said Melissa, excited as a puppy.
"Will you tell him you read the book?" asked Trini,
looking at Melissa's breasts and thinking that Steven
Moore was about the luckiest man alive.
"I can't, but I imagine he'll let me read it later if
we start going out," said Melissa.
Trini, despite her slight heartache, wanted nothing
more than to see Melissa happy. She started to think
through the best way for Melissa to ask Steven out,
when a thought occurred to her.
"Hey, Missy?" Trini was unsure how to say it. "Um-are
you sure you're, well, fat enough for this guy?"
"Trini, I'm a whale! You know that!" Melissa laughed
self-consciously. "And finally it's going to work to
my advantage. It's like a dream!"
Trini wasn't convinced. She tried again. "Um, Missy,
you said the thinnest girl in those stories was 270
pounds and gaining, right?"
"Right," said Melissa.
"You're probably-what, 170 soaking wet?" asked Trini.
"I wish, I'm 175," said Melissa glumly.
"Still, hardly a 'whale'. Maybe we should feed you up
a little," suggested Trini.
Melissa was stunned. All her life, she'd been obsessed
with her fat-thighs too big, too much cellulite,
stomach not flat enough, face too round. Angrily she
turned on Trini. "Are you trying to sabotage me? I
weigh 175, but that's pretty fat, right? I mean, those
were fictional stories. There aren't really people out
there who weigh 560 pounds, are there?" She began to
wonder. "On second thought, make me that sundae."
The next day, she put on her pastel-pink dress with
just a thong underneath, not even pantyhose. Her
little belly protruded tellingly, and she was amazed
at how much bigger she looked. Without a girdle, her
butt jiggled ever-so-slightly as she walked to work.
She was amazed at her coworkers' reactions. "Wow, you
look different," said her boss, looking not altogether
pleased. Some just stared. One of her fellow marketing
reps actually took her aside and whispered, "Are you
pregnant?"
Melissa was about to go home and change clothes,
embarrassed by the attention. But she still had to
take Steven his mail. She touched up her makeup and
hair, spritzed on some perfume, and went to his
office. "Hi," she said, laying down the pile of mail
with his manuscript in his in-tray.
Steven saw the big publisher's envelope right away.
Excited, he grabbed it and began to tear it open. But
then he realized Melissa was still standing there. He
smiled up at her. "I'm sorry, Melissa, was there
something else?"
Melissa was thrown. He hadn't even noticed her dress,
her unbound buxom figure. He was just being polite.
"Ah-well, no. I mean yes! Um, do you want to go to
lunch?"
"Oh, wouldn't that be nice! I wish I could, but I have
a meeting with Mary over lunch," said Steven, his eyes
straying back to the envelope in his hand.
Ah. The old "meeting-with-the-editor." Melissa was
crushed. But she brightly replied, "Okay, then! Have a
good meeting!" She turned and, with her last bit of
dignity, walked back to her own office.
Steven watched her go, noticing what a nice rear end
she had. She was too thin for him, but she was going
to make some guy really happy one day. Oh sure, she
had potential to gain, but he'd never seen her eat
more than salad. Too bad. He turned his thoughts back
to the envelope in his hand, hoping it was good news
from his publisher, which it wasn't. Devastated,
Steven wondered what to do next. He realized there was
no choice.
Later that day, Melissa's friend Judy stopped by her
office. "Hey, did you hear? Steven Moore's taking a
six-month leave of absence, can you believe it?"
Melissa was stunned. "Really? Where'd you hear that?
Do you know why?"
"Apparently he wants to write a book! He won't say
what it's about, but that's what he told Mary at a
lunch meeting today," Judy said, excited to have the
scoop on the office's most eligible bachelor.
Melissa went home that night, glad that Trini was
there. She had to talk.
"Hey, how did it go?" asked Trini, eager for news.
"He turned me down, but Trini, I think I've got a
plan," said Melissa, eyes shining. "I'll need your
help."
"Shoot!" said Trini. Like she could ever say no to
Melissa.
"It turns out that Steven's taking a six-month leave
of absence to write a book, and I got to thinking
about what you said last night. And so I did a little
research, and it turns out there's a whole subculture
of men who love really, really fat women. Turns out
there are 560-pound women, and lots bigger. Steven is
a "fat admirer," so I think I should take this time
while he's gone to get fat. Really fat."
"How much weight do you want to gain?" said Trini,
getting more excited by the second.
Melissa shrugged, grinning. "Well, enough to give him
ideas. I mean, how much could I gain in six months?
Not too much. I bet he wants a fat girl, but one with
room to grow, too. So will you help me?"
Trini looked Melissa square in the eye and said, "I
will do anything in my power to help you."
Melissa never knew how much fun an unfettered eating
spree could be. At last, after years of trying to
keep her figure in check, she ate absolutely anything
she liked, whenever she wanted to. And for the first
few weeks, it worked like a charm. She busted the
seams right out of a pair of size-14 slacks at the end
of her second week of gaining (by which time she was
up to 193 pounds). Upon going to a plus-sized store,
she struggled like crazy with a size 16, only to
realize that she had jumped two sizes in two weeks!
She went ahead and bought 20s, just to be on the safe
side, and even those were snug by the time three more
weeks had gone by. But after a while, she hit a
plateau.
Melissa changed into a pair of men's sweatpants and a
t-shirt, and tucked into a deep dish
meat-and-extra-cheese pizza, plus a gigantic salad
slathered with blue cheese dressing, and some buffalo
wings. She had never eaten so much fattening food at
one time before, but it was so delicious that stopping
wasn't even an option.
Melissa was grateful that she had stretched her
stomach in the past week as she forced slice after
slice of the rich, cheesy pizza down her gullet. After
eating more than three quarters of the pizza, the
entire salad, and most of the buffalo wings, she had
to lay down and read for a while. She drifted off to
sleep on the sofa, looking as pregnant as her
co-workers believed her to be.
That night, Trini made her a steak dinner with all the
trimmings, plus-the final decadent touch-the richest
pecan pie Melissa had ever tasted, topped with ice
cream. After two pieces, Melissa thought she might
explode. She sat completely still until her queasiness
went away, and then ate a final piece, as Trini
applauded.
Melissa walked gingerly to the scale, rubbing her
belly. She stepped on and was astounded to see the
number: 221. Nine pounds in one day. She smiled in
disbelief, and Trini whooped.
"Nine pounds! Yaaaaaaaay! Steven Moore's not gonna
know what hit him!" she cried, jumping up and down.
Melissa could only look on in disbelief. She'd gained
45 pounds in a little over two months-sure, she'd lose
some tomorrow, but her capacity for putting on weight
just plain astounded her. Finally, something she was
great at!
And, most of all, Melissa ate. A LOT. At every meal,
she ate until she strained the bounds of her stomach.
Toward the beginning of the sixth month, she began to
feel as if her life was nothing but chew, swallow,
chew, swallow. Stuff, stuff, stuff. But it paid off-by
the beginning of that sixth month, Melissa had put on
an astounding 108 pounds to weigh in at 283. When she
passed the 100-pound-gain mark, Trini had baked her a
sheet cake, and cheered as Melissa plunged in, face
first, and ate the whole thing. As she sat back,
straining the stitches of her size 24 dress, icing on
her chins, breasts, and queen-sized belly, she was
gloriously triumphant.
Melissa had reached the 100-pound mark very quickly,
but she realized the need to really go for broke in
this last month. So she took the classic diet rules
and turned them around. She drank less water, and more
juice and sugary beverages. She ate her biggest meals
late at night. She skipped meals occasionally to make
herself hungrier and slow down her metabolism. And it
worked-the numbers on the scale got higher, her
clothes got tighter, and there was a huge butt-print
in the couch as testament to Melissa's hard work.
Speaking of work, things were coming to a head at the
office. Her performance was just as good as always
(Melissa was a whiz-kid at marketing), but she'd
packed on the pounds so fast nobody knew what to
think. One day, her boss came into her office.
"Hey, Missy!" she said, unsure of how to broach the
subject.
"Hey, Susan!" said Melissa. She smiled cheerily, and
stifled a belch induced by a mid-morning cheesecake.
"Anything I can do for you?"
Susan closed Melissa's door, and pulled up a chair to
Melissa's desk. She dropped her voice to a whisper.
"Uh, Missy, are you pregnant?"
Color flooded Melissa's pudgy face and dripped down
her chins. "Nope, not pregnant!" She couldn't believe
the staff still thought she was having a baby.
Susan was mortified. "Oh, god, I am sorry, Missy.
Seriously. It's just that, you know-" she made a vague
gesture toward Melissa's bulk.
Melissa wondered if she should let Susan dangle,
pretend not to know what she was talking about. Nah,
why be rude? She kept smiling. "Yep, I went off my
diet for good. No more starving for me!" To make her
point, she grabbed a candy bar out of her desk and
took a bite.
"Yeah, that would be great!" said Melissa, grabbing
her purse. "I'll take Extra Value Meals one and four,
okay?"
Susan laughed. Surely nobody could eat that much.
Susan herself could hardly get through one Extra Value
Meal. She joked back. "Want me to supersize those?
What about dessert?"
To Susan's amazement, Melissa took another bite of her
candy bar and said, "Oh, yeah! Supersize! I almost
forgot. And don't worry about dessert-Trini's bringing
me some brownies later."
Susan just stared as Melissa counted out enough money
for the fat-laden meal and started to get up. She
grabbed the arms of her chair and grunted, her
spreading hips caught in the narrow seat. "I'm always
getting stuck in this chair," she said, breathing
hard. Finally she popped out of the chair like a cork
from a bottle.
"Yes!" said Melissa. "I'd love that." She was glad
Susan understood. She hoped the rest of her co-workers
would be as accommodating.
Later that day, Melissa got an e-mail about the
company's holiday party, coming up in two weeks. As
she scanned the invite, her eyes picked out the magic
word: BUFFET. All right! All-you-can-eat on the
company's dime! As she came to the guest list, she was
surprised to see the name "Steven Moore," and called
Trini in a panic. "Trini! He's going to be at the
company holiday party, what am I gonna do? I'm not
ready!"
"Oh, you're ready, all right," said Trini. "Tonight,
we'll think up a plan of action, all right? Leave it
to me!"
That night, they planned everything she would do at
the party, right down to the smallest detail. Where
she would sit, what she would eat, how she would get
his attention. Something occurred to Melissa. "What
will I wear?"
Trini looked her over. The trick was to take the
thin-dressing tips from magazines and use them to
reverse advantage. "Okay, how does this work for you?
We'll put you in stretchy white dress slacks. For the
top, a fuzzy white twinset with horizontal silver
stripes. Flat shoes, of course." She began to sketch a
design.
"Trini, you are a genius!" Melissa exclaimed. "Are you
going to make this outfit?"
Trini looked up and grinned. "You don't live with the
best seamstress in town for nothing, girl! Besides, I
can't wait to get a tape measure around those hips!"
When the big day of the party came, Melissa stepped on
the scale for the first time in two weeks. She'd been
stuffing her face almost constantly from nerves, and
the dress slacks Trini had made were going to be a
tight squeeze. She looked absentmindedly at the
scale's dial, then did a double take.
303.
She screamed. "TRINI, COME HERE!" Trini pounded up the
stairs, thinking that at last Melissa had gotten stuck
in the bathtub. But when she got into the bathroom,
she found Melissa dancing around in obvious delight.
Trini laughed.
"What is it?" She watched as Melissa stepped onto the
scale and, once again, the needle flew around the dial
to rest at 303. "OH MY GOD, MISSY! We didn't even see
it coming!" Trini wrapped her arms as far around
Melissa's waist as they would go. "Still think you're
not enough woman for Steven?"
Melissa was so excited she'd nearly forgotten that
Steven would see her for the first time in six months
today. Last time he saw her, 175 pounds. And now, in
six months and two weeks, she'd put on 128 pounds to
weigh 303. Boy, would he be surprised!
Steven sat, somewhat dejectedly, at the editors'
table. His six-month leave had produced very little in
terms of sellable work. His publisher was riding him
unmercifully, and he had the worst case of writers'
block ever. What he needed was a muse, but he had no
idea how to meet the sort of woman he really wanted.
Where do fleshy goddess types hang out? He wondered.
"So, Steven, will you talk to her?" said Mary. He
snapped back to attention, as the editors stared at
him expectantly.
"I'm sorry-to whom?" he said, embarrassed to be caught
woolgathering.
Mary smiled indulgently. "To Melissa Briggs in
marketing. We think maybe she would be more
comfortable working from home, because of-you know-"
What had happened to Melissa Briggs? "I actually don't
know-what happened with her?"
"Oh, god, that's right!" laughed Mike, one of the
other editors. "He hasn't seen the woman in six
months-he has no idea!"
Steven was starting to worry. "What are you talking
about?" He'd always liked Melissa, such a nice, funny,
bright woman. And pretty, too, if thin.
Mary flushed. "Ah, well, um-you see, Steve-"
And then, with the best timing of her entire life, in
waddled Melissa, all 303 radiant pounds of her.
"Oh my god," Steve muttered under his breath. Her
beauty was blinding. Her long, dark curls glistened
around her round, multiply-chinned face. Her silver
and white sweater made her look like the moon rising.
Her pants were stretched to the bursting point, he
could clearly see the stitches. When could she have
gotten so fat? She had to weigh 300 pounds! He
salivated as he watched her walk, breasts bobbing,
stomach jiggling. She smiled at him and came over to
say hello. He quickly grabbed a napkin to cover his
hard-on.
She leaned down to him, revealing her deep cleavage.
"Hi, Steven! It's so nice to see you again! I hope
your leave of absence was productive!" she smiled at
the editors. "Hi everyone, didn't mean to interrupt
anything, I'll be off now. Happy holidays!"
She walked away, and Steven could have screamed over
the mesmerizing jiggle of her ass. It was as if waves
of fat squashed through each cheek in turn. Her
too-small panties cut deeply into the soft lard,
making lines under her far-too-tight white pants. Oh,
she was beautiful. All Steven could do was look after
her, openmouthed.
He turned back to the editors, who were all grinning
at him like children playing a joke. They all burst
into giggles at the stunned stare on his face. "Now
you see what we mean!" said Mike.
"She put on that much weight in six months?" Steven
shook his head in disbelief. "Is she pregnant?"
Mary shook her head. "Nope, Susan asked her, and all
she said was that she 'went off her diet'. She's been
eating like crazy-I keep wondering if it's glandular,
but she claims to be healthy as a horse, no pun
intended. But if she keeps gaining like this, she's
going to be sort of a liability in the office. So can
you talk to her?"
Could he! "Oh, yeah, definitely. No problem." He gazed
at Melissa's giant rear as she bent over the buffet,
piling her plate high.
Steven tried to sit still and sip his drink, but the
thought of her sitting wedged in one of the booths was
too much for him. When it looked like she had finished
the mountain of food on her plate, he walked over to
where she was sitting. He smiled into her liquid dark
eyes. "Would you mind if I joined you?" he said,
hoping his erection had faded to some degree.
"I would like nothing more," she said, looking up
coyly from under her lashes, "But would you mind
getting me a little something from the buffet first?"
God, what a woman, he thought. "It would be my
pleasure. What can I get you?"
"A little something from the buffet" turned out to be
two plates' worth of fettucine alfredo, mashed
potatoes, roast beef, lasagna, and fried chicken.
Before he'd even set both plates down, she'd grabbed a
drumstick and started in. What a woman. He watched her
expertly wind up a giant bite of fettucine alfredo and
put it in her mouth, licking the creamy sauce from her
lips. "Mmmmmm, thank you," she moaned appreciatively.
"So, how are things in marketing?" he asked, marveling
at the gracefulness of her hands as she pulled the
skin off a second drumstick and gulped it down.
She swallowed. "Great, actually. We're getting tons of
advertising for the next issue of the magazine. But I
swear my office is getting smaller-I'm always knocking
things over these days, it seems," she giggled,
looking down at herself. "Well, I guess it's not the
office getting smaller so much as-"
"What if you worked from home?" he said, glad for the
opening.
She frowned. Was he trying to get her out of the
office? "I don't know," she said hesitantly, "It
wouldn't be the same, I mean, I'd miss seeing certain
people every day." She said the last with a meaningful
look, hoping he'd take the hint.
She nearly choked. He was asking her out!
He smiled. "Looks like you've cleaned your plates, can
I get you something else?" he asked.
What? She looked down and sure enough, she'd finished
every morsel on both plates. She couldn't remember
eating a thing. "You know, let's both go up-then we
can get four plates!"
He could have cried, he was so happy. He helped her
slide sideways out of the booth, and walked behind her
all the way to the buffet. He hoped her pants weren't
as tight as they looked, the seams strained with every
jostling step, and they pulled into horizontal
wrinkles under her belly. But they put every wobbling
inch of her rear on display for him, too. He went to
the dessert bar and filled up two plates with sweets,
while she got more entrees. Back at the table, she
tucked in even more hungrily than before.
"You're very beautiful, you know," he said softly.
She looked at him with glowing eyes. At last, it was
happening. She went to take his hand, accidentally
knocking her fork off the table. Without thinking, she
bent over to get it, and with a great tearing
*RRRRRRRRRRRIP* and a mighty *POP*, two things
happened: the seat of her pants gave up the struggle
and tore wide open, and the button flew off her
waistband.
She sat up. "Oh, god."
He knew instantly what had happened. "Do you have a
coat with you?" he asked.
Her eyes were wide. "I do, but it's in the coatroom."
"Tell you what," he said matter-of-factly. "I can't
see a thing from over here, and you've got to be more
comfortable now. So keep on eating, and I'll make as
many trips to the buffet as you want, and whenever
you're done, I'll get your coat and take you home. How
about it?"
Her radiant smile again. "That would be perfect,
Steven." She shoveled chocolate cake into her mouth
with renewed vigor. They talked and she ate, and when
she finished all four plates, Melissa sent him up once
more. More talking and eating, plus a serious game of
footsie under the table ensued.
Melissa was ready to have him take her home-she'd
chased Trini out for the night, hoping Steven would
come in with her. Needless to say, he did. That night
was the beginning of the rest of their life together.
Steven smiled knowingly. "I was hoping you'd ask. Meet
my wife, Melissa." She lumbered onto the podium,
hoping it was sturdy. She wore a long red dress. It
was made of silk so thin that it clearly defined the
knee-length sweep of her belly apron, and the wobbling
posterior that had so entranced Steven to begin with.
She waved to the reporters, and her huge triceps
flapped back and forth. At 627 pounds, she was nearly
spherical, and hundreds of cameras flashed, trying to
take in her vastness.
"Mrs. Moore, are you going to sit down and answer some
questions?" shouted a reporter.
She turned around laboriously and waggled her rump,
like two jelly-filled beachballs, at them. "Do you
think I can sit on one of these flimsy folding
chairs?" she asked, and laughter rippled through the
auditorium. "I'm just here for moral support." She
kissed her handsome husband, waved again, turned a
slow circle for the photographers, and waddled out
into the night air.
Melissa had gotten so used to being stared at, she
didn't even mind the gawkers as she made her way to
the car. She drove to Trini's house, where Trini's
live-in lover Marcia answered the door. "Melissa! How
are you? How was the press conference?"
"I'm great, and the press conference was a riot.
Steven is amazing with reporters. How are you doing?
You look fatter!" she said, patting Marcia on her big
bottom.
Marcia grinned conspiratorially. "I hit the big 3-5-0
today!" she said, radiantly happy.
"God, Marcia, that's so great! Trini must be a basket
case! I remember how we freaked out when I hit 300
pounds," said Melissa. All of a sudden, a small figure
came flying from the hallway and threw his little arms
as far around Melissa's thigh as they would go.
"Mommymommymommymommy!" shouted Steven Junior.
Her sweet baby. Melissa reached down and mussed his
hair affectionately. "Hi, sweetie! Did you have a good
day?"
"Yes, Aunt Trini and Aunt Marcy and me went to the
park, and now we're gonna have cake!" as he talked,
the little boy played with the soft, new fat at the
bottom of her belly absentmindedly.
Marcia blushed. "You don't mind, do you? Trini made
cake to celebrate-and get me to 400 that much faster!"
Melissa's belly shook like the proverbial "bowlful of
jelly" as she threw her head back and laughed.
"Marcia, have I ever-EVER-turned down cake? The only
thing I'm worried about is if you'll have enough!"
Melissa sat down at the table, Trini's antique chair
squeaking in protest beneath her. She picked up a
piece cake and smiled at Trini across the table.
"So what's next for you, Missy?" asked Trini, grinning
back.
Melissa licked a blob of icing off her finger. "Not
sure...Steven's got a new eating machine, so we'll
probably get me up to at least 650 and start Steven's
new book."
Marcia stopped eating and looked at Melissa,
wide-eyed.
"Wow, 650..."
Melissa laughed, and grabbed one of her belly rolls.
"I know, can you believe this? Will it ever stop?"
The three women looked at each other over the table,
realizing that it probably would not.
THE END