chapter 4

Lindsey certainly didn't let up during the holiday season and I no longer had the self-control to slow down my bingeing. Just about every night ended with me beached in our bed, groaning and belching softly as Lindsey teased me. She alternated between relieving the pressure of my overfull stomach and building the sexual tension as her hands would wander to other areas. She made sure I was quite satisfied in every sense before finally drifting off to sleep.

I guess it shouldn't been a shock when I stepped on the scale on New Year's Day, but I still gasped out loud when the number flashed up at me.

202.

I gained another 30 pounds over the last two months. I was huge. I was fat.

My gut, for it was now truly a gut, stuck out rudely. My breasts were large and heavy, gravity beginning to work against them as I outgrew my D-cups. My hips were wider, no denying those love handles any longer. My ass had both deepened and widened a bit, but the most worrying aspect was how it now sagged a bit lower as well.

It was enough to wake me up from my stupor of denial. This needed to be addressed immediately. I threw on some sweats that were unfortunately tight and headed out the door for jog.

I made it less than half a mile before wobbling to a stop, hands on knees as I gasped for breath. It was a humiliating, I had jiggled from head to toe with each step. I had to admit that I was incredibly out of shape.

Lindsey just smiled a little when I told her later that I was starting a weight-loss regimen. It was tough going at first as I tried to haul my flab around at the gym, aware of others judgmentally watching the fat chick try to lose some of her many extra pounds. I stuck with it, though, eating responsibly and exercising regularly.

The pounds started to drop off, slowly but steadily. My muscles firmed up and I felt less flabby. Lindsey still hadn't voiced a single protest or tried to convince me to start bingeing again. I figured she was just being pragmatic about enjoying my temporary gain for what it was.

When I got back down under 190, I came home from the gym one day to the smell of fresh-baked lasagna. I had foolishly skipped lunch that day so my mouth started watering as soon as I walked through the door.

Such a stupid thing to have as my downfall. I tore through my first serving with barely a word, just grunts of appreciation. Lindsey plopped another large square on my plate and I hardly paused before digging in again. Before I knew it, my stomach was stretched tight and I was leaning back in my chair, trying to belch to relieve my fullness.

Lindsey slid under the table and crawled over to me, her fingers working inside the waistband of my panties and sweats before pulling them down to my ankles. She pushed my thighs apart as she buried her head between them, working me up to a frenzy in no time.

As I basked in the afterblow, still sprawled out in the kitchen chair, she slid a plate of chocolate cream pie in front of me. This time I was going to resist, but then her fingers slid in where her tongue had been working earlier and I couldn't manage a coherent thought.

Three slices of pie later, chocolate smeared all around my mouth, I slumped back in my seat. Too full to move, I could only watch Lindsey chuckle as she started to clean up.

"Same tomorrow?" she asked.

And just like that I had fallen off the wagon. Addicted again to eating and sex, I regained my lost weight in half the time it had taken to lose it. I picked up the pace even further as I shot past my highest weight, outgrowing clothes in record time.

I was blimping up. Ballooning. Getting fatter by the day. There was no denying it, I was packing on the pounds like my life depended on it.

230? 240? Mere blips along the way.

My ass was huge - two wobbling, jiggling spheres. My thighs rubbed together down to my knees.

250? 260? Hardly noticed them go by.

My breasts were massive, resting atop an even larger gut. It retained its spherical shape as I began to resemble an overweight pregnant woman. My upper arms were thick with excess fat.

270? 280? I was now double my original weight.

It was insane, I think I was eating more at meals than most competitive eaters. I had to start holding up my belly while Lindsey crawled between my thighs, my face turning red as I grappled with pounds of soft fat.

We celebrated the 300 mark with a trip to the buffet. At some point in my three-hour gorge the elastic waistband of my underwear snapped. People stared as I waddled out, back arched to offset the weight of my horrifically bloated gut.

It was shortly after this that Lindsey seemed to be losing interest. Perversely, I actually upped my eating to try to impress her. I was up to 320 and was beginning to wonder if I needed to worry about widening doorways at some point.

Just a few weeks later, however, she dumped me. It was short and perfunctory. Once I had time to process it, I realized that near the end we hardly had a relationship at all outside of food and sex. She told me that she always started getting bored at a certain point after a girl had gotten past 300. She said it was just time for something new.