Chapter 2

“Wait, Brenda!” Rick called from the door of his office.



Brenda didn’t even look back, hurrying away. Kim just smirked from her desk chair, having just heard Brenda tell Rick that he was getting too fat and she wouldn’t be with him anymore until he lost weight. She looked her boss up and down, taking pride in the progress he had made in less than three months.



He had already upgraded his wardrobe once, but it was plainly getting too small again. His pants sat beneath the curve of his midsection, pulled tight around his softening thighs. Rick’s budding gut pushed against his shirt, straining the buttons. The shirt was so tight that it even highlighted his growing man-boobs. As he turned around and retreated back to his office Kim noted that his plump ass was threatening to split a seam.



Rick sat back down at his desk. He had fantasized all morning about a quickie with Brenda, but now had no way to expend all his sexual energy. With a grunt that was part frustration and part self-loathing, he grabbed the large bowl of candy on his desk and started pigging out.



Half an hour later, feeling nauseous, he slumped back in his chair with a belch. As he undid his belt and wrestled open the button on his too-tight slacks, he cursed Kim for the sixth time that day. As the pounds piled on the mistresses disappeared, all openly disgusted by his seeming lack of self-control. His wife, Rachel, actually seemed to delight in his expanding waistline. She started making large, lavish meals, snickering as her husband ate himself into a stupor. It was a control game for her, and to see her formerly strong husband fatten and soften gave her quite a thrill.



~*~*~*~*~*~*~



Another two months went by. Rick’s pecs were now soft handfuls of flab, his rear wobbled as he walked. But now the vast majority of his 44 pound gain sat in his bulbous gut. Kim was fairly sure he stuck out further each day. Routine matters like tying his show or bending over to pick up a pencil became humiliating displays of his awkwardness.



Kim greeted Rick with a smile as he walked past her desk into his office. His gut bounced up and down slightly as he walked and several of the lower buttons his shirt were barely hanging on. She had left three dozen doughnuts on his desk with a message that they better be gone by the time he took her to the Chinese place for lunch.



For a few days now she had had a craving for Chinese food. She only had a small breakfast today (4 eggs, 4 strips of bacon, and one bagel) in order to save room for lunch. She chuckled. Rick didn’t have that luxury.



Several hours later Kim let out a soft belch and unclasped her size 22 slacks. The workout regimen had been progressing, but the dieting had been so unsuccessful that she had practically given up. At this point Kim was almost satisfied with staying at her present 213 pounds. She was, however, determined that Rick would soon make her look svelte.



Speaking of Rick, he had been stuffed into a stupor at this point, force fed plate after plate of various dishes. Kim had his belt in her purse, it had lost its usefulness after the fourth of fifth helping. His skin-tight slacks were not only unbuttoned but completely unzipped, hidden somewhere below his bloated food sac. His breathing was ragged and his face glistened with perspiration as he leaned back in the booth.



“Have enough?” Kim teased.



Rick groaned, too far into his food coma to be able to put together any words. After a short while to give him a chance to recover, the stuffed associates waddled out of the restaurant. Rick had to hold his pants up to keep them from falling down around his ankles.