Chapter 1 - Outgrowing the 'fat pants'

Breathe. And pull!

I’m trying as hard as I can, but there’s just no budging them. Every forceful yank and jerk causing my blubbery flab to jiggle wildly, filling me with strange mixture of frustration and pleasure. Defeated, I relent as I’m left red faced and panting, having worked up a sweat from such simple exertion. I look to the mirror and am greeted with a painting of corpulence, crafted by pure gluttony and hedonism.

I stand there, a pair of jeans pulled taut against my tree trunk thighs, impeded from their ascent by my colossal rear end jutting out as it seemingly mocks my futile attempts. These pants weren’t just any old pair though, these jeans were my so called “Fat pants”, as you so loved to refer to them.

You had ordered them not long after we had started dating, playfully telling me that one day you would make me too big even for these. I remember how I laughed at the sight of them back then, how I could easily stand in a single leg hole. I looked like one of those before and after weight loss photos as I was swallowed up by a vast canvas of denim.

And yet here I stand, heart still racing as I come to terms with what’s happening. I’m too big for my ‘fat pants’. A cacophony of thoughts rushing through my head as I take in the sight before me, thinking back to the lifestyle that had led me to this point.

A quick slap and the wave of jiggle that cascades across my huge rear quickly pull me from my daze. Your hands slithering across my abundant hips, tracing the curves of my love handles as they struggled to reach together around my humongous waist. I feel as my velvety soft fat oozes around your arms, wrapping you like a warm blanket.

I feel myself melt into your embrace as you plant soft kisses against my plush shoulders, my head falling back as you move to my luscious neck. If nothing else I feel proud, the idea that I’ve outgrown my ‘fat pants’ with your help filling me with a sense of pride and lust. It had been a long journey to get this far, and I was truly excited to see where it took us both next.

When we had first met, I was nothing like this. A small plush tummy and the tiniest of muffin tops, but I still remember the anxious look in your eyes as you told me of your secret. Your desire to feed, to pamper, to care. You had a passion for fat. And the way you held me tight, reassuring me of your commitment was enough for me to accept. You were so flustered as you talked, a few moments passing before you realised, I had agreed to grow for you. I thought it was so cute seeing you like that in that moment.

It was slow at first, a lifetime of dieting, exercise and healthy eating falling away as you introduced me to a new world of pleasure. My meals growing larger as you cooked and baked me every treat I desired. Your soft hands exploring every new inch of me as I grew. It was intoxicating as I steadily grew for you. Each night you would praise me, lavishing me with delicious treats and belly rubs.

Even as your fantasy became reality, I don’t think either of us had expected me to grow this big. But we were happy, and I was comfortable with how our relationship had affected my waistline. Granted, my thighs were still being squeezed by my ‘fat pants’. But you quickly helped to peel them away from my poor soft legs, tossing them in the closet along with all the other clothes I’d outgrown on my journey.

We celebrated that night, you push me down onto our bed as you press your svelte body against my doughy form. Stopping only to skip to the kitchen, bringing back plenty of snacks to fuel our evening of gluttony and hedonism.

The next morning I remember feeling your whole body wrapped against my belly, like a tiny koala on a tree. You looked so content in your sleep as I gently ran my pudgy fingers through your hair. I couldn’t think of the last time I’d awoken before you, usually finding the bed empty as you left for the gym or to cook me a hearty breakfast. But I couldn’t bring myself to disturb your slumber, and so I pulled you closer into me and watched as a smile crossed your sleeping face.

It wasn’t something I really thought about much after that, not until a few weeks later at least. You had started to enjoy sleeping in, forgoing your workouts to cuddle my soft form. But I figured there was nothing wrong with that, you deserved time to yourself to relax.

Another change came when I noticed your new little habit. As I would sit there with my belly packed full of delicious food, you would occasionally take a small bite for yourself. Of course, you made sure to offer up plenty of food straight to my mouth with one hand, but the other hand began to do the same for you as time went by.

Not that I had any objections of course! Rather, I enjoyed my new game. Part of me wondered if you had even noticed yourself doing it. And then one morning I woke to the sound of pure shock. Carefully working my huge form from the bed as I waddled to our ensuite bathroom. Opening the door slowly to reveal you standing there naked in-front of the mirror. Your soft hands pinching and squeezing at a small layer of newfound softness around your waist.

Your face betrayed your confusion, clearly surprised by this new discovery. But I was quick to return the affirmation you had so often given me. My hands working their way across your body as I kissed your neck, dissolving any fears you had that I wouldn’t adore your plumpness.

Perhaps this had been the turning point for you, even if neither of us knew it at the time. But from that point forward, my feeding sessions were rife with stolen bites here and there. Not that I minded, I simply adored seeing you smile as you tasted whatever delicious treat that found its way to your mouth.

Your workouts began to slowly disappear around this time too. I noticed your gym bag rarely leave its usual spot as you began to enjoy spending more time relaxing with me. Part of me did feel guilty watching you grow at first but seeing the smile on your face whenever we shared a meal or I ran my hands across your plush tummy assuaged any doubts in my mind.

And so the pattern continued, our days spent devoted to gluttony and hedonism once more. Only this time it wasn’t just me indulging was it? It didn’t take long for you to outgrow your clothes, not to mention your former tight exercise wear. I remember how much you blushed when you had to dig through the closet to find some old outfits of mine from when I was the same size. Playfully teasing you as you pulled on clothes with ‘plus-sized’ labels for the first time. Feeling you quiver as I traced my fingers up your growing belly. One thing was for sure now, we were both enjoying this.

Every week was a new milestone, a new outfit pulled from my closet to become a staple of your rapidly shrinking wardrobe. While my own weight had begun to plateau, yours just continued to climb higher and higher. I’d began to help out in the kitchen even more now, though our cooking sessions were often interrupted by bouts of fondling and taste tests. At least till something boiled over and caught us of guard, red faced and blushing.

Even our feeding sessions had changed from their usual tact. Once you had taken full control, pushing my past my limits with a gentle and caring force. Now it had become an exhibition of excess, our hands offering more and more up to each other’s waiting mouths. And every session seemed to push your limits further, filling me with pride as I would gently rub your overpacked belly with care much like you used to do for me.

By this point you had long since passed typical definitions of ‘chubby’ or ‘overweight’. Long gone was the formerly toned body of an athletic feeder, replaced with the form of an overindulgent feedee. You were starting to seriously cut into the reserves of my old clothes closet, rapidly outgrowing every new outfit within weeks.

Pants would dig into your padded hips, your love handles spilling over into a divine muffin top. Tops would ride up with the slightest provocation as your belly surged forward, as if declaring its arrival as you entered a room. Your former muscles forged by years of hard work and dedication, undone by months of gluttony and hedonism.

Family gatherings became blushing evenings as we went from the former fitness fanatic with a hugely fat partner, to a pair of overindulgent gluttons revelling in excess. No one quite believing that you had ended up blowing up just like I had the years prior, in record speed even.

But for each moment of doubt, I was there for you just like you had been for me. A warm embrace, a soft kiss and a whisper of affirmation to sate your fears. We were happy, and if that meant we were both hugely fat, then so be it! It was a familiar sight then on that fateful day when I watched with giddy anticipation through the slightly cracked bedroom door.

Breathe. And pull!

Trying as hard as you can, but there’s just no budging them. I watch as parts of your form jiggle wildly with each sharp movement. Listening as you grunt and pant, a thin sheen of sweat lining your brow. You keep trying over and over, but nothing changes. But you know that don’t you? You know your thighs won’t be contained, and even if you did manage it, then what? Your rear end jutted out far behind you, daring you to try and challenge it.

I open the door slowly as I waddle in, wrapping my arms around your love handles. I squeeze your soft doughy flesh as I press my own colossal belly into your plush back. A moan escapes as I plant soft kisses on your neck. And as I whisper in your ear, a sharp breath cuts through the air as is it finally sets in for you.

You’ve outgrown the ‘Fat pants’.