chapter 3

I called him that night and told him what the tailor had said and that I planned to make the most of outgrowing my trousers. He invited me over to spend the weekend at his place where he assured me that I would be "fed like a goddess". His words excited me.

The next day I wore my softest shirt with no bra so that my fattened tits bounced heavily with every step. It was a struggle to pull my jeans on, and no doubt it would be virtually impossible by Monday. To outgrow my clothes - my thighs thickened, love handles spilling over the top and jiggling as I walked, ass seams tearing when I bent over - that was the plan. The walk to the train station turned me on ridiculously.

He devoured me with his eyes when I got off the train and I knew that the cool wind was perking up my nipples. He even snuck in a boob grab as we kissed there on the platform, and then whispered "they're bigger" in my ear. Thus followed the fastest walk home ever.

He had bought all my favourite treats - fresh tahini and honey bread, bags of chocolates, a raspberry and white chocolate cheesecake, peanut M&Ms, and a big loaf of sourdough with butter to slather on it. The centrepiece was his chicken salad, full of healthy ingredients and then drowned in mayonnaise for maximum deliciousness (and inevitable weight gain).

"Babe...you shouldn't have" I laughed, but my insides were squirming with anticipation and I could feel myself getting wet with the thought of all that food fattening me up like a fertility goddess.

He lay me down on the bed and as we kissed I felt his hands exploring my body. His rough callouses against my smooth, soft fat felt so erotic. I looked down and watched as my belly squished through his fingers, my thighs dimpled as he squeezed them, and my breasts overflowed his hands. I needed him inside me. As he ***ed me my body jiggled more than ever and soon our bodies were covered in sweat that made us slip and slide all over the bed. It was so ***ing hot. We lay there afterwards, satisfied and exhausted and sweaty, and I told him that I had worked up an appetite.

"But you didn't do anything" he protested. I shut him up by grabbing the bowl of chicken salad and tearing off a hunk of sourdough. Looking him straight in the eye I buttered the bread, thickly, and dunked it in the mayonnaise salad. "Feed me."

He shoved that huge mouthful into me as fast as he could. It was so delicious and so fattening and slipped down so easily. The bowl was demolished in no time. "Rub my belly" I ordered and as he did so, I started on the cheesecake, swallowing huge forkfuls, barely tasting it. Taste was less important than fattening myself up as quickly as possible. The faster I ate, the less I registered how full I was getting, and the more I could fit inside my stomach. The cloying silky sweetness filled me up and I fell into an eating trance. After the cheesecake came bites of tahini honey bread, in between kisses, and his hand gradually moved down from my overstuffed belly to my upper thighs, and finally he was inside me, fingering me hard enough to take my mind off the painful fullness. My moans were muffled by food, I almost choked on bits of sesame, and as he worked his fingers inside me, he spoke.

"You're getting so sexy, look at how big and jiggly your tits have become. You are such a good slut, eating and taking my cock so hard. You are my delicious fattening goddess; your curves are growing by the second. Keep eating, my luscious little whore. I want to see how plump we can make you." Good God I came so hard.

"No more, I can't- I'm so goddamn full", I begged, as my body wracked with orgasms. He kissed my forehead and moved his hand back up to my tender, pregnant looking belly. He drizzled baby oil over it and gently rubbed it while we watched a film, and before long the painful fullness subsided and he began feeding me M&Ms. After all the sex and food we needed a shower, and he delighted in soaping up my new curves. So much so that I felt his cock poking me in the back and we had clean, dirty shower sex. The rest of the weekend passed in a haze of pampering, feeding, ***ing and lounging. It was one of the best weekends of my life and definitely the most erotic.

On Monday my jeans wouldn't come past my thighs. I was forced to wear sports leggings (the irony!) as they were the only things that fit, and an oversized t-shirt to hide my bloated stomach. None of my colleagues said anything. It was the moment of truth. The moment I had been excitedly dreading.

The work trousers.

They slipped over my calves but stopped halfway up my thighs. I huffed and grumbled as I strained to get them up, but it was no use. The plan had worked - I was officially too fat for my trousers. They had once been slightly loose, but my chubby thighs and widening ass filled them out until they wouldn't even pull up to my waist. I was forced to ask a colleague to borrow their spare skirt because they were stretchier and she looked at me a bit oddly. "What's wrong with your trousers?"

I blushed and lowered my voice. "I got too fat for them."

She looked me up and down and smiled cheekily. "I admire your honesty."

The rest of the day I felt my plump thighs jiggling around in the tight confines of the skirt, squished so tightly together that on more than one occasion I used my fat upper thighs to rub my clit as I worked. And no one noticed. I popped chocolates into my mouth all day and ignored the stares from my co-workers. I knew what they were thinking. And I didn't give a ***. I was finally realising my dream of becoming a curvy gorgeous girl with a mile high sex drive, and I had never felt sexier. I smirked as I thought about this. Maybe I'd outgrow my new trousers, too.