Chapter 11 - part 15 - hitting the milestone

Both my wife and I were lucky to have time off together, heading into the Christmas vacation. She made good use of those days, fully aware that my final weigh-in of the year was going to happen at year's end. Each day of our vacation became an opportunity for my wife to devise some way to stuff me to my limits, or beyond.

Above and beyond the regular regimen of pushing the limits of my stomach, over the days leading up to Christmas we had several wonderful and sexy stuffing sessions. On various occasions I was tied up, blindfolded, force-fed, funnel-fed, and made to eat from a bowl on the floor like a pet animal. Rachel assisted on a couple of occasions, which was fun, as it allowed the two women to team up in teasing me.

Christmas dinner with my family was a little uncomfortable. While my family has its share of overweight members, you can imagine that my gains hadn't gone unnoticed. Over the course of two years I had gone from among the thinnest/fittest members of my family to certainly the fattest. When asked, "Did you gain weight?" or, "Don't you think you should try and drop a few pounds?" I would just pat my belly, tell them I was happy, that my wife liked me this way. Then I'd lie and say something like, "I'll probably end up losing some of this weight in the Summer."

While we were with family I always tried to curtail my eating, but this time my wife was not willing to play along. She kept re-filling my plate and goading me on to eat more. She was clearly enjoying it, as I became more and more uncomfortable, physically and emotionally. But she made up for it in her showing off of her affection for my appetite in front of the others. The funniest thing that came out of it was after dinner, my wife overheard my aunt and a cousin talking about me. She heard my aunt say, "Well, it's no wonder he's gotten so fat - did you see how he eats? He eats like a pig!"

The best stuffing I had during that period was after Christmas, a few days before New Years Eve. I'd been stuffed solid for days, and was still feeling pretty full from lunch. She laid out the clothes she wanted me to wear on the bed - a pair of sweatpants which had been too small for awhile, and a long-sleeved tee-shirt that I had similarly outgrown. I knew better than to argue, so I put them on. The pants and shirt wouldn't quite meet, leaving an inch or two of my belly exposed. She bound my wrists behind my back, then forced me up onto the bed. I sat there, pillows propped behind me, with my belly hanging between my thighs, and she pulled out the funnel gear. That made me smile in anticipation. After a few anxious moments of setting up, she placed the tube into my mouth and started to pour her special milkshake mixture into the funnel. I gulped it down, and down, and down, consuming the thick fluid as quickly as I could. She hung the full funnel on the headboard of the bed and placed the half-full pitcher on the bedside table, freeing her hands, and she stood next to the bed with her thin, strong arms crossed over her chest. Her face wore a smirk.

"I think I can see your belly expanding right before my eyes, pushing out from under that shirt," she said. She pulled the shirt up a little more, baring some more of my ample blubber, and she nodded. "Oh yeah, look at that thing, blowing up like a balloon."

She knew these teases would drive me wild, and they did. But I was helpless to do anything but gulp on my tube. When the funnel started to run low, she filled it back up from the pitcher. She prodded me here and there, and teased me a little more until I finished the contents. It took awhile, as I grew full and my consumption slowed, but she egged me on until it was gone.

When she'd taken the funnel away, I sat there, with my belly feeling very bloated and heavy. It was bared, with the shirt pulled up under my fleshy moobs, feeling like a balloon full of milkshake. I rested, breathing heavily, and waited for her to return and unbind my hands. She did return, but she stood at the end of the bed with her hands on her hips. She smirked at me.

"Aren't you going to untie me?" I asked.

"Sure, bring them over here and I'll untie you."

I scowled slightly. I was in an awkward position, with my legs splayed out and that big belly between them, unable to adjust myself with my arms bound. So, not know what else I could do, I tried to roll myself onto my side. Once I got a little momentum going with my belly, it rolled over my leg, and I ended up on my side. I tried to get myself upright, on top of my belly, but couldn't get any leverage. So I was stuck there, which amused my wife very much.

"Are you a little bit stuck?" she asked, fondling the underside of my belly, which was splayed out beside me.

I grunted in response.

"My little beached whale," she cooed.

Eventually she did untie me.

On New Year's Eve I had my final weigh-in for the year. The scale stopped at 404 lbs, so I made it just past my target. My wife and I were both thrilled, and we celebrated with dinner, of course. It had been a wild ride through that year, gaining well over one hundred pounds, and passing our original target of 350 to hit 400! It was a wonderful journey for us to take together. But already my wife was ready to set a target for 2016 - 500 lbs!

"Whoa!" I said, "Can we start a little less extreme?"

So we settled on 450 lbs as a starting goal. Sort of. She still hints at fattening me up to 500 lbs. But that's for another story...