My

Chapter 1

I will never forget her image on the day she arrived.

Tiny little bird, skin and bones. Her black hair is tied into a long, waist-length ponytail that flows merrily behind her as she emerges from the gate; the smile when she notices me shines brighter than a Hannukah light. She throws herself into my arms, her skinny legs hugging my fleshy carcass as tightly as she can, clinging to me like a drowning man to a life preserver.

We've probably been standing like this in the middle of Dizengoff square for about ten minutes, locked in a passionate embrace, I feel how she's all trembling, overwhelmed with emotions, drowning in my soft carcass. Actually, that's the reason she's here.

I met Shiri in about the same place where a well-fed guy from the Tel Aviv might meet a young bronze-skinned goddess from Eilat: on the Internet.

I was very surprised to find one on a site created specifically for women who are interested in fat men, well, “large-sized handsome men,” as we are called in certain circles. It is rare to find such mutual passion for food and cooking. She explained that she really, really loves to cook and just dreams of meeting a well-fed guy like me, whom she can feed - and generally fatten - for the rest of his life. Of course, I was terribly surprised to learn that I was the ideal that she was looking for, but I was even more surprised when it turned out that she herself dreams of getting fat.

At first I thought that this was just me dreaming, but during the conversation it became clear that she knew exactly what she was talking about and what she wanted, and was ready to do very, very much to fulfill her desires.

“Raz,” Her voice sounds muffled from somewhere on the pillow of my fleshy torso, which is even softer because of the thick sweater.
“I’m so happy to see you...”
“I’m glad to see you too, Shiri”.

And then, while I’m thinking whether it’s appropriate to kiss her right now - that the first thing when we meet will be a hug, I had no doubt and was ready, but then it’s not very clear, after all, there’s a difference in customs — Shiri’s face emerges from my sweater, She, grabbing me by the neck, literally pulls herself up and kisses me herself.

Hot, passionate, exciting.

I’m already trembling all over, one might say that my wet dreams are coming true. A gorgeous beauty from nowhere, whom I barely know, has traveled to see me, to hug and kiss me, to feed and fatten me—and to be fattened herself. This generally happens in life, huh?

“Raz,” after a while she pulls back a little, large dark eyes, two pools, looking straight into my soul. “I'm hungry now. Are you feeding me?”
“Oh yes,” I answer, smiling stupidly, “let’s go eat.”

From the packed square, I took her to one of the best restaurants in the city, where there is a buffet and self-service. If she's serious about gaining weight with me, here's her chance to prove her point.

Shiri is modest by nature, and maybe she has not yet recovered from the long ride, but she does not immediately warmed up and adapt to the situation.

I, as always, fill heaping plates, and I know how much; She chooses, as if doubting. But then, with each new visit to the buffet counter, her plates fill up a little more thoroughly. Our first meal together takes place almost in silence. Or rather, we do without words, actions speak for us: Who, what and how exactly they prefer to eat. It immediately becomes clear to me that she loves a wide choice, taking a little of this, that and that on her plate.

This is what I prefer, if I wanted something, just put as much of it on the plate as possible, but when I finish it, we’ll see what exactly goes next, the same thing or something else. Such a fascinatingly funny difference in approaches. And complete unity of appetites. I myself have never suffered from the lack of one, but Shiri is something, a natural conveyor belt for the destruction of edibles, she is on an equal footing with me. We left the restaurant an hour and a half later, overfed and heavy. We climb into my car, but I haven’t even turned on the ignition when Shiri unfastens my belt, releasing my substantial belly. Her playful tongue shows between her sparkling teeth while she strokes my belly, massive and large.

“So fat...” she exhales, putting both her paws into action.
“Very nice,” I agree.
“Such a big belly...” she’s all beaming. “I want a big belly too.”
“Yes?” — I turn slightly towards her. “Are you ready to continue this way?”

Shiri just nods, continuing to stroke my fats. Then she unbuttons her own pants and lifts up her T-shirt, showing her slightly swollen, but very, very modest belly. She strokes it, then pats it expressively on my belly—it naturally ripples. The hint was clear: She still has to try and try harder to match my size.

On the way to my home I passed through Mcdonald's and KFC, loading bags of burgers, fries and chicken sandwiches into the car. I also stop at a local pizzeria, where I got six family pizzas—Well, Shiri and I aren’t quite family yet, but we’re getting there. Along the way we continued to eat it all, steam is already pouring out of our ears from excitement, and having crossed the threshold we literally attack each other, tearing off our clothes.

And we spend the rest of the day and the whole night either in the bedroom or in the kitchen—making love and feeding each other, sometimes at the same time. And when the first rays of dawn peek through the window, I look at Shiri, incredibly bloated and passed out, scattered around with a happy smile.

Once again I replay in my head everything that happened in these short hours. Something will happen next... And then Shiri, as she herself wanted, begins to really expand in breadth.

At first—only in the lower part of the body, the buttocks swell literally every day, her hips become more and more voluminous, it is so bursting that after just three months of being on my property, her sides become the width of a doorway!

In this way, her figure seems to gain a reserve of strength so that her stomach has room to grow. And—oh, how it grows!

Strangers, seeing us together, even would think that she was pregnant. But six months later, Shiri swells from constant gluttony to the point of being completely spherical; Her waist circumference is almost the same as mine! And not because I have lost weight, on the contrary, we constantly feed each other and I have also gained a fair amount of weight.

I’ve always been fat, but this is the first time I’ve seen the number “244” on the scale. It’s not so critical for me, who is 2 meters tall, but little Shiri, with her height of 1.60 meter, has to carry such a heavy weight—we both had eyes on our foreheads when she climbed on the scales, and it turned out that she was already 208 kilos!

Incredibly obese, beefy, fat, and so insatiable in every way that her weight will continue to increase in the near future.

“If I return home now,” she once said, “no one will recognize me there! I'm so big now!”
“Oh yes, baby,” I lovingly patted her large and round belly, which swayed even more than mine. “My damn seductive big girl!”

Life was wonderful, we were both happy and happiness, let it last as long as it should, so I went to a jewellery store, bought a beautiful diamond ring and proposed to her that same evening. “I don’t want you to leave,” I told her, handing her a beautiful white box with a cake from which this very ring sparkled. “I want you to stay here with me. I want to feed you so that you will always be fat and happy.”
“Oh, Razi,” tears streamed down her plump cheeks, “I want to be your fat wife, and I want you to be my fat husband!”

So, three weeks later, a modest ceremony took place. Shiri was a beautiful bride; Her magnificent wedding dress was made to special order and altered twice to suit her growing figure. She shocked her family members with her fatter figure, but assured them she is very happy. And that what really matters (her mother even told me she is finally satisfied to see her daughter’s weight gain and no longer the anorexic girl she was before).

For my honeymoon, I booked a honeymoon suite at the luxurious hotel room. When we crossed the threshold of the room, a trolley with an enlarged copy of our wedding cake was waiting for us in the middle of the room, a meter-long multi-layered Tower of Babel made of rum-soaked sponge cakes and pink and white cream. ...

I don’t remember how many kilograms there were in this tower, but right there, we tore off each other’s clothes, like the first time, pounced on this cake and on each other, devouring it by the handful and also, hand-feeding each other. The product was not destined to survive until the morning, and at dawn, having ordered a modest breakfast for a dozen people in the room, we continued the gastronomic orgy...

It is impossible to even imagine how my life has changed in this short time. I was useless to no one and nothing, but became one of the fattest and happiest people in the whole world, and all this is thanks to my delightful Shiri, my vast and overwhelming bronze goddess, and the aura of immense joy that she brought into my life...