Chapter 2 - ch2 ice cream

Two weeks into classes, a local ice cream factory celebrated its fiftieth anniversary with a truck sale. They rented a couple of big freezer trucks, filled them with ice cream, then sold them only a little bit over their costs, with all net proceeds going to charity. Of course I went, mesmerized by the idea of getting a couple of tubs of ice cream and just sitting and gouging on them. Yah, I was that far gone already, to where I was seeing this idea as a good thing, not a crazy thing.

There was a huge line up. I was far from the only fat person there--there was plenty of thin lovers of ice cream or bargains, too, but I felt almost like I was amongst my own kind. Imagining all these other fatties enjoying their ice cream was pretty exciting. I made sure not to get caught staring at other people's bellies, but I figured I was pretty safe in letting my eyes rest on the broad hips of the young woman a few people ahead of me in line. She had a curtain of blonde hair hanging most of the way to where her jeans were stretched tight over the impressive globes of her ass. Her body language looked happy and confidant, and I could totally imagine her digging into her ice cream with gusto.

Eventually I got near the front of the line. The fat young lady two people in front of me picked up four tubs, paid, then turned around. I saw the burn scars on her cheek. Her hair was long and now blonde, she was a lot plusher, but it was surely Sam.

I froze. She glanced at where my belly was stretching my t-shirt, but never looked at my face. She started walking away, almost waddling. Finally I managed to croak "Sam!"

She looked around to see who had called her name. She looked right at me and carried on. I managed to swallow, to moisten my throat a bit. "Sam, its Dan." Her eyes came back to my face, down to my gut, back to my face. I literally saw her eyes widen and her pupils dilate.

She blurted out "I thought I'd gotten fat, but look at you!"

I felt myself blush, but also get turned on. Suddenly daring, keeping my voice as casual as I could I replied "Yah, I'm really chubbing out. My appetite is off the hook, and I just can't be bothered to control it." Everyone around us was hearing me confess my weakness, sending a sort of creaping chill or thrill down my spine.

Then I was at the front of the line. I bought four tubs instead of the two that I'd been planning. Sam looked at them, at my face, at my belly, back to the ice cream, and finally back to my face again. "Soooo....want to bring those by my place?"

It was crazy. Her inviting a near total stranger to her apartment. Me taking her up on it, when I knew it was foolish of her. Us sitting on her bed, gouging on ice cream until we got headaches, drinking some warm apple juice, then diving back into the ice cream. Undoing our too tight pants to let our bellies out. Ordering pizza when we couldn't eat any more ice cream, throwing back a few bottles of beer, eventually going to bed together, tipsy and lustful from food, beer, and just sheer fatness.

The next morning Sam was very vocal about how fat I'd gotten, and how much she liked it. She admitted that she didn't just like fat guys, she didn't just like growing guys, she especially got turned on by "guys who let themselves go." As for me, I discovered that having a safe place to let go and be fat made the disgusted feelings mostly go away, and the lustful feelings take up near full time residence.

Speaking of taking up residence, I moved in with Sam over the Christmas break--I was spending most of my time there anyway, so it only seemed logical. Her apartment was way nicer than mine--the loss of her family had technically left her an orphan, but a fairly well off one.

How well off she was turned out to be part why I'd not seen her for a year. After our talk she'd been a bit shocked by how forward and aggresive she'd been, and that had kicked off a whole cycle of soul searching. One of the things that she'd found was that she wasn't really that interested in chemistry. She'd always been a good girl, gotten good marks, had enrolled in challenging and potentially well paying degree....but it had hit her that she didn't really need that. She had enough money she didn't really need a high paying career--some income would be nice, but she had enough money that she could really choose whatever career she enjoyed, even if it didn't pay very well. She'd quit school in mid-term, then returned in the Winter term in the Fine Arts faculty, and was now following her love of ceramics. It seemed a bit of a waste of time to me, but it was her money.

I even admitted to myself that having a girlfriend wealthy enough to be kind of frivolous in her career choice was kind of a turn on. I felt bad that her wealth made her more alluring to me, but it did. The idea that she wouldn't need me to be a high achieving go-getter, so long as I could hold down a half-decent job, was also pretty appealing.

By the time I graduated, I'd ballooned to well over three hundred pounds. Not huge compared to some people, I guess. But I was only twenty-three years old, and only six years before I'd been fit enough to play recreational soccer and hockey. I was nearly twice the weight I'd been back then! And wow could I feel it. Just doing normal activities was getting more difficult, a consequence of getting lazy alongside getting fat I guess.

I was lucky that I managed to get a process control position at the ice cream plant, where basically I sat and watched reports from the machines on the evening shift,11pm until 7am. I'd go home, have a morning meal with Sam, sleep until mid-afternoon, then snack and play video games until Sam came home. We'd have supper, then either watch TV and snack, play video games, or go have adult fun. As we both got fatter we found intercourse harder, and somewhat less satisfying as it was hard for me to get very deep into Sam. We did find lots of other ways to satisfy each other--Sam was the experimenter, but I was willing to go along, and I got off and being ready for whatever she wanted.

Sam was was still a part time student, but was also teaching some pottery classes to kids and working a few half-shifts a week at a pottery supply store. All told she was busier than I was, so I took care of most of our laundry and grocery shopping and cooking--when we didn't just eat out or order in. Sam decided that a cleaning service was in order, as neither of us was all that enthusiastic about those duties.

It was a fat, lazy, life, and I didn't think I could ask for anything more. I didn't have to do much, I could eat as much as I wanted, I was gloriously fat, and had a wife who was three hundred pounds herself and loved our fat at least as much as I did.

I mentioned wife--that is right, we got married. Just a quick civil ceremony, we hadn't felt like waddling down the aisle like a couple of parade floats, but we were happy to be married. And to be honest, I felt more secure about being so fat and out of shape once we'd tied the knot. I rather liked Sam's money, and this made it less likely that she'd decide to leave me if she suddenly decided that I was too fat and lazy. Not that I'd been too worried before the wedding--I figured she was pretty much as fat and as out of shape as I was, so I didn't figure she had much she could complain about. Still, after the wedding I felt that little more secure, and that little bit more free to enjoy my fat and lazy life.