Chapter 2 - "i don't want to be fat"

"Wow, it looks like you were expecting company," John finally stammers.

"No, just you," I say as I remove a pumpkin pie from the oven and set it on a cooling rack.

His eyes look puzzled, and before he can ask any morequestions, I speak again.

"Now, let's eat. I'll bet you're famished, John." And indeed he is.

We eat and chat for more than an hour. Well, actually, I do most of the chatting as I watch John do most of the eating.

He scarcely notices as I refill his plate again and again and again.

He is literally cleaning a plateful, now soaking up the last dollop of gravy with a dinner roll and stuffing the dripping bread into his mouth.

Abruptly, my guest stops eating and turns a little red like he is all of a sudden embarrassed at his gluttony.

"God, I'm sorry," he mutters. "I'm usually not this much of a pig."

"Oh, you're not being a pig at all," I reply. "In fact, you've hardly eaten anything!"

He looks at me in disbelief, unable to speak. He swallows the dinner roll with a distinctive gulp. "Huh?" he manages to say as I lean over and lick a bit of gravy from his chin. I nibble lightly on his jaw with my lips, and I feel him filling with fear.

I stand up and move very close to him. I remove my nightgown, pulling it over my head, exposing my luscious naked body, my large pert breasts, full hips and my sweet, creamy thighs.

As expected, John's mouth falls open, and his eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. I move quickly now, picking up a fork and loading it with a big bite of mashed potatoes.

"Now, can you eat just a little more? For me?" I ask sweetly.

John nods vigorously and grins. His mouth is grinning, I notice, but his eyes have that deer-in-the-headlights look to them.

"Now, that's a good boy," I say, carefully lowering my beautiful body onto his lap.

I guide the forkful of potatoes into his open mouth. Then a forkful of oyster stuffing, then buttered squash, then turkey, then a roll. As I feed John, his hands move across my body, rubbing, fondling, caressing my soft skin. I feed him, and he feels me. All this hedonistic pleasure goes on for several more hours as the night grows late.

I am not oblivious to his swelling body though I stay focused on feeding him. His belly bulges delightfully against my curvy hips as I feed him the remainder of his feast, bite by fattening bite.

When the food is all gone, I get up from his lap and go over to the counter to get the pie.

"Oh, Gawd, no," John chuckles, sleepy-eyed and drowsy from all the turkey, gravy and stuffing. "I don't think I can eat another bite for a week."

"But you'll look so much better with a little meat on those bones," I say. "You're far too thin now." I smile seductively at him and wink.

"But - but I don't want to be fat," he stammers, glancing down at his now bloated and distended belly which threatens to burst the buttons on his skin-tight shirt.

"Yes, you do," I say, emptying the contents of a huge bowl of my homemade whipped cream onto the pie. He eyes the pie with a bit of desperate horror, then looks at me with a puzzled look but also with growing lust. I glance between his legs, then bend over close to his face.

"Mmmm, looks like that potbelly is not the only thing bulging to grow out of those tight pants," I whisper into his ear. He shudders at my warm breath passing across his neck, and I see his body jiggle a little beneath his tight clothing.

I set the pie in front of him, then kneel between his legs and unzip his pants. He shuffles about as I pull his jeans below his knees. My fingers fumble a little as I free his erect penis from his too-tight boxers. I run my tongue over the tip slowly at first, then a little faster. Waves of ecstasy jiggle across John's overstuffed body.

"Now, can you eat just a little pumpkin pie, John? I made it especially for you. I don't think you want to disappoint your hostess, do you? And you certainly don't want to disappoint yourself, do you?" I giggle sensuously as I lift his shirt a little and kiss his belly. "I'll bet you are delicious," I whisper into his deep navel, the hairs on his distended gut now standing at attention. I bite his soft underbelly, then move my lips slowly lower, pulling his too-tight shirt back down over his gluttonous potbelly.

(to be continued)

(Inspired by an old weight gain classic)