Chapter 1

We go away for a weekend of feeding, and spend the weekend either naked or in robes, fucking wildly and eating constantly, feeding each other 24/7. We know we've gained, both of us, but have kinda not noticed how much.

I go to put my outfit back on, and it is TIGHT. I tug my t-shirt down, and it leaves nothing to the imagination; what’s more, it's now a midriff shirt. I try to get my leggings on, but even though they're pure stretch material, it’s torture. You try to help, holding the waistband while I jump up and down. When that doesn't work, I hold the waistband, and you start shoving my hip and ass and belly fat into the leggings, pushing madly, everything wobbling.

When we're done, I say: 'I know we'd planned to go to their renowned Sunday brunch buffet, but... well... I don't know... .' You look down, smirking at my straining seams, and say, ever so innocently: 'Honey, I understand how you feel, but you know we were both looking forward to this as the highlight of the weekend.'

I hem and haw, but you plead, and ultimately I agree.

You stroll down the hallway, thoroughly enjoying my awkward gait, which is making me impossibly self-conscious—not just a fat woman’s waddle, but amplified by the fact that the clothes can't move. We arrive at the dining room, and I sit down gingerly and ask you to bring me a small plate of something. You say, 'But honey, don't you want to see what there is? There are four huge tables of food...' I blush furiously, and say 'You know full well I'd love to see every morsel, but I can't move! What if my leggings give way in the middle of the dining room?!?'

You put your arm at my waist and gently push me to standing, which I do painfully awkwardly. You whisper in my ear 'I'm here. I promise nothing will happen, so let's enjoy the brunch.' I've promised myself I'll only have a bite or two, not to strain the leggings, but as usual, my appetites take over, and I return to the table with two large plates overflowing with food. I'm walking normally now, having completely forgotten about the weak seams and the threatening humiliation. I sit down, and there's a sound of a little tear, but I'm already in a food trance, and I begin eating in that way you know means I'm totally aroused and won't be able to stop.

I finish both plates fairly quickly...

I stand to get more, and there's another small sound, but again I don't notice.

I return with two more plates piled even higher, and I eat with absolute gusto, my nipples hard and very visible, my belly obviously swelling. I'm rubbing my belly visibly now, completely unaware of the other diners, my hand on the bare stretch where the t-shirt and the leggings don't meet, squeezing, fondling, rubbing, moaning as I shovel the food in. You discreetly pass your nearly full plate in front of me, and watch as I devour a fifth large serving of brunch.

When I finish, I close my eyes, leaning back and belching loudly, rubbing my enormous belly. You hear the little tell-tale sounds of tearing, but I still don't, covered as they are by other sounds and thoughts.

You ask me if I would bring a plate of cheese Danish for us to share and I readily agree, waddling over to the bakery table. I begin to fill a plate high with cheese Danish, when someone bumps into me and they all go flying. I bend over without thinking, and rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp, the rear and front seams give, right in the middle of the dining room, with everyone looking. Fat oozes out, making huge bubbles of newly liberated fat flesh, and the whole room is deadly silent, watching in shock.

From the other side of the dining room, we hear a shout: 'Marry me, baby!', and everyone laughs, breaking the tension and silence.

You rush over with a robe, covering me up and leading me out to the car, copping a feel of every mound of flesh released by the leggings, and you say to me, 'Fatty, I've never seen you more sexy than just now...'

You take me to the car, and have me hop up on the hood; you palp rolls and mounds of flesh everywhere as you feed me Danish that you wisely brought with us. I'm lying back on the trunk of the car, panting, blushing, embarrassed, stuffed, but SOOOOOO aroused. I keep eating--another, and another, and another, unable to stop as you feed me--until suddenly, the side seams give way too, and my leggings are in complete tatters, covering nothing, my semi-naked, enormous, obese, fat body there in front of you on the trunk, needing you.

You drop your jeans, and pull me to you, sliding right into me with one motion, both so ready, so needy, panting, huge, engorged, enormous fat mountains of people fucking madly in the middle of the parking lot, still shoving Danish into each other’s mouths, crying out in pleasure, grabbing each other's enormous bellies, shaking them, wobbling them, thrilling to them.

We begin eating even faster now, shoving whole Danish in thoughtlessly, hips moving faster, grinding as they go faster, harder, the need so intense it blocks out everything else--all sense of the surroundings, all sense of fullness, all sense of modesty, like huge fat ponderous elephants in a mating dance, pushing against each other, the need indescribable, screaming out, ‘Fuuuuuuuuckkk me, fatty, I need it.

Nowwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!’ And our hips grind against each other with such intensity that we both scream out and come, pouring our liquid everywhere, on the car, on the ground, in each other, shoving those last few times.

As we begin to quiet a tiny bit, we rock against each other, still feeling shudders and after shudders, and finally you fall over me, limp, spent, exhausted.