chapter 1

"What did the doctor tell you?" Her voice startles you as you crane your thick neck around the refrigerator door. The soft glow from the open door shows her round figure standing in the doorway, arms crossed under her ample breasts, clad only in a black bra and panties. A stern look hardens her face.

"I said, what did the doctor tell you?" She moves swiftly across the room, her heels clicking in unison with her belly jiggling. Suddenly a vice like grip squeezes your pudgy side roll, the one that's been steadily thickening each night for the past few months.

"Um, that I um, should lose some weight..." You stammer, turned on by being caught red handed with your fat face in the fridge. You can only imagine what you look like. Shirtless, stuffed belly bulging out in the room, the biggest it's ever been, wearing that pair of boxers that safely fit 30 lbs ago. You're sure you've got crumbs resting on the top of your gut from the frozen pizza you shoveled down moments before, followed by the left over moo shoo pork and that half a cheesecake from your sister's birthday last week. Your eyes quickly shoot to the clock and you realize you've been eating for over an hour at this point. No wonder you're stuffed, you fatso.

"That you need to lose a lot of weight, tubby. Over 100 lbs in fact, just to no longer be obese. And yet here we are, your fat piggy snout in the fridge. How is this helping your case, lard belly?"

"I was just um, getting some water ..." You trail off helplessly ...

Immediately she slaps your overstuffed gut and you both watch it bounce, wobble, bounce to a halt, illuminated by that judgemental fridge light.

"Clearly." She snarls sarcastically. "You're clearly a man who can resist temptation. It's not like you've been out here every night while I've been sleeping, stuffing yourself silly, making yourself into even more of an overfed blob." You feel her nail poke deeply into your meaty lovehandle to prove her point.

God, you feel like such a pig, cheating on your diet in the middle of the night, losing all control to your food addiction. And she knew, she's known the whole time what a fatty you truly are ...

You began this little ritual after your annual physical, where the doctor's eyes widened as he read your chart.

"50 lbs in a year? That's a lot of weight, young man and you weren't exactly skinny last year ..." He eyed your huge gut as you sat on the examining table, praying it wouldn't creak under your weight. You face turned pink and you tried to cover your overflowing fatness with your arms.

"Obesity is a national crisis nowadays and you're already a statistic. Have you seen those headless, fat, bloated bodies on the news? You're already bigger than most of them ..." Pushing the edge of his clipboard into your sagging mound of flesh. "Do you know what you're up against? How hard it's going to be for you to get to an ideal weight? You're already 318 lbs and only 25 years old, Jesus Christ. If you keep this up, that belly's going to hang to your knees by the time you're 30. I suggest you start dieting immediately if you ever want to be anything other than morbidly obese. And even then, there's little hope once you're let yourself get to this size." He patted your large gut and walked out.

Alarmed by this, you promised yourself and your girlfriend you would lose the weight, get back to the toned athlete you were when you met years ago.

Like most morbidly obese men, the new fat had mostly gone right to your gut, giving you a round buddha shape and yet it was easy to convince yourself it was just a little relationship weight as you grew more comfortable. After all, your girlfriend was always cooking those fattening meals, urging you to take seconds and thirds ...

She just wanted to make sure you were well fed. And if it was so bad, she would have let you know by now. But damn 318 ... your cock twitched. You never imagined you'd get so big without every trying. Just imagine if you really put some effort in, how unbelievably fat you could become ... You snapped out of your thoughts as you lumbered to your car.

Besides, dieting couldn't be that hard, you thought as you felt the car buckle under your weight and pulled the seatbelt to it's max before you started the engine, belly bouncing heavily on your thighs the whole ride home.

That first day you ate so healthily. This wasn't that bad. You felt proud, victorious, under control. Until midnight ... and the grumbles started, your fattened pampered body protesting in agony against you, preventing from you from sleeping. You felt the hunger pangs like daggers. No, you thought, come on, fatty, have some self control.

But you couldn't. You gingerly lowered yourself out of bed and tiptoed as quietly as a large *** could and gently opened the fridge door. Your eyes darted from the fruit drawer to whole tray of lasagna she had made as an "extra" while you ate your dry grilled chicken at the dinner table. What if I just had a bite, just one ... As always with you, gluttony won out. Within minutes the whole tray was gone, your breathing labored from your overeating, huge bloated belly straining and the shame coursing through your body.

Maybe she won't notice ... you thought as you carefully hid the empty tin tray in the neighbors trash.

And thus began a vicious cycle. She never said anything, just kept stockpiling the fridge was fattening treats and making grilled chicken each night for dinner. Smiling seductively as you left the table and congratulating you on sticking to your plan like a good boy. "Just think how thin you'll be this time next year. This big gut will be gone for good." She ran her fingers across your widest point. You'd smile back and say, "Of course babe, can't wait to see all my progress."

And then each night you'd come back to the fridge and feed yourself silly like a hog in a trough, oftentimes touching yourself to your own obesity, arm jiggling widely, if you could muster up the strength to even reach that far.

One night when your legs got too tired to carry your lard, you had the genius idea to pull up a chair. This way you could get the maximum calories down your fat throat in no time. One night you sucked down an entire gallon of ice cream, feeling the drip, drip, drip of the melting mess slide off your round overfilled gut and on to the floor. Another time you ate so much you almost fell asleep out there, too big and gorged to even heave your obese body back to bed, feeling your moobs sag onto your belly, arms hanging heavily your sides, your hard cock firmly buried under your mountain of belly fat. And most recently, you leaned forward to grab a particularly decadent key lime pie and felt your fat gut finally slip off your out of shape thighs and hang lower than the bottom of the chair.

You wondered what you could possibly weigh at this point but those thoughts were quickly dismissed by your impending sugar coma. It felt so good to stuff. You loved letting go, growing every night and feeling the buttons on your size 48 khaki pants strain just a little bit more each morning you got up for work.

And now here you were, months later, even more obese and out of shape and with no end in sight, a true victim of your own gluttony. And you were caught. Fuck.

....