chapter 4 - captivated

CAPTIVATED

The meds knocked me on my ass. I felt out of it and really loopy and all I wanted to do was sleep. She took incredible care of me, feeding me constantly and giving me wonderful massages and luxuriant baths. And phenomenal sex. As much as she was feeding me and however stuffed I was, I found myself hungry most of the time for food and her. She was delighted to accommodate both and I'd often fall asleep with her taste mingled with those of my latest bellyful. Sometimes, as I lapped and sucked her plump, succulent, sweet pussy, she would stuff chocolate in my mouth that mingled with her heady taste and aroma and make me even hungrier.

At work, I'd feel completely embarrassed that I looked like a fat slob who didn't care about how he looked with my shirts practically gaping at my waist and chest and collars too tight to do up the top button. I also sweated at the least provocation or exertion. So I would hide in my office and happily stuff myself with chocolate covered cashews, caramel popcorn or whatever bulk candies or nuts she would have delivered to my office. I had gotten to the point where I didn't care what I looked like and really didn't want to be around people who once knew me to be a good-looking athletic guy who dressed really well. I wanted only to be with her and make her happy

I knew I was fat and getting fatter and gotten incredibly lazy - all I wanted to do was eat, cum and sleep - and usually in that order. She told me that in one short month I had gained 25 pounds which explained why I'd outgrown most of my clothes. My body was bigger and softer, stretch marks on my sides and gut, my face chubby with jowls and a double chin that was turning into a dewlap. She had also grown moobs on me bigger than her breasts that she often fondled - tweaking and pinching my nippples as I gorged - teasing me about my "big, fat tits."

Before going to sleep and after waking, I would be forced to sit up with my fat belly pushing against my crossed legs, and drink a quart or so of chocolate "shake." As I swallowed she'd rub my belly and side fat and coo to me, "that's it baby, drink it all down and get big and fat for me!' At those times all I wanted to do is just become magnificently obese for her; be fed, fondled and fucked and get as fat as I could.

Friends were clearly surprised if not shocked. At parties and barbecues, she would plant me in a comfortable chair and bring me food that I obediently gobbled down. My embarrassingly tight shirt and pants left no doubt to how fat I was and how successful she had become at fattening me up. I would see her across the room talking to friends - clearly about me - and she looked serious as though there was something wrong. I would smile and continue to munch away. She would then come to me and tell me our friends were concerned and that she told them that she wasn't sure what to do with me - that I had developed a gluttonous appetite and didn't care how fat I got. In fact, I was getting to the point where I really didn't care.

"You really have become a real pig, sweetie," she said with concern. "And you're not even halfway to where you need to be." Then leaning forward with a smile and hungry eyes and rubbing my belly, "And I'm going to bring you three more plates and another one of desserts for you to finish before I take you home and fuck your brains out." I grinned and she walked away wiggling and swaying her round, sexy ass and hips and I realized how hard I was.

I was so out of shape that she would have to drop me off at the door of restaurants or malls and I'd get sweaty and winded after trying to keep up with her, I would have to sit down to catch my breath and try to cool down. This seemed to delight her and that made me happy. She'd cocmment on how fat and out of shape I was, kiss me and tell me to relax, then would go away briefly and come back with a huge cinnamon bun or two, or some other calorie-laden goodie. Then we would head off with me waddling, sweating and puffing along after her until I had to stop again before reaching the door. She would run ahead to get the car and I'd wait while other diners would come and go, shocked at my appearance.

That summer at the beach or pool, she had me wear small trunks or speedos that practically disappeared under my now massive belly that couldn't be camouflaged anymore. She'd openly chide me for how fat I had gotten at the same time stuffing me with insanely fattening foods and rubbing the stuffed, fat wrapped sphere my stomach had become. I would settle back smiling and chew and swallow and get fuller - fat and glistening in the sun.

She became increasingly domineering the point of gently chastising me in public for getting too fat, for example, to sit in a restaurant booth she insisted we sit at. People would hear it and I'd start to blush. She would then, loudly enough so those close could hear, say something to the effect of, "don't pretend that people don't notice it. They see you waddle in and squeeze yourself into the seat and then stuff yourself to the point you can barely get out." She'd then lean over and whisper in my ear, "and it gets me so hot! You eat lots for me now so you can make me cum from how fat you are!" She'd then hotly kiss me and jiggle my fat-laden chins and jowls. I would smile back looking forward to the food and sex after we got home.

When we went back to her doctor friend for a "check up," he was amazed at my transformation. After checking my weight and taking a good look at me from several angles he asked me how I felt. I replied that I felt good, "and really fat." He chuckled and asked if I was happy. After slowly processing that for a while, I grinned and said, "Yeah. I guess I am really happy." I looked to her for approval. Turning to her, her doctor friend congratulated her. "Well," he said, "you've done better than I'd have ever imagined!" and mouthed something to the effect "he's huge!" He hugged her and she beamed broadly. I remember thinking how nice it was that they were such good friends as he wrote new prescriptions and she fed me several chocolate bars.

At Thanksgiving, we went to her mother and step dad's. When we arrived, her mother hugged and patted my belly, telling me I looked skinny and saying something in Italian to my sweetheart and tormentor, who smiled wickedly and licked her lips at me. At dinner I was harangued by her mother to eat more and more and ended up soaked in sweat, barely able to get up from the table let alone walk to the car. On the ride home, my pants and shirt stayed open to let my - her - huge Belly hang out to be fondled and squeezed by my love and feeder.

From then on, I constantly felt huge. My gut was enormous with a big, solid round core covered with a ridiculously thick layer of jelly-like fat and corpulent, formless moobs spread across and around it. My dick was almost constantly hard - an apparent side effect of the medications that were now part of her regimen for me - but also the careful and deliberate conditioning Elle had put me through.

At Christmas, we - actually she - decided we should get married in April and I happily agreed. By the time that rolled around, she told me I weighed three times what I had when I first met her and I was massive. I felt encased in fat. I seemed to eat constantly, blindly ravenous with an animal fervor that she had encouraged and conditioned me for and she was enthralled by it. She had transformed me into a fat, turgid mass of gluttonous and carnal appetites and almost no self. I no longer cared or even really knew what she had made of me - a huge, fat man in constant need of food and sexual release.