Chapter 1

I was dating, um, let's see . . . Julie? I think it was Julie. It was a period where I went through a couple girlfriends really quickly. Anyway, I was dating Julie, but not like seriously or anything, and I ran into an old classmate from high school.

Her name was Lindsey and she was a tiny little blonde girl. I kind of remembered her being a dork in high school but she was looking good now. At only 25 she was an executive in a hip, young marketing firm.

I was a jock in high school and college, playing mostly volleyball and competing a bit in track, swimming, and soccer as well. I was quite proud that I still carried a tight, toned 140 pounds on my 5'8" frame. I had bounced around a bit right after college as I wasn't quite ready to be an adult, but by this time I had found a steady job putting my accounting degree to use for a local book chain.

So anyway, Lindsey and I kind of hit it off and it seemed like she was super interested in me right off the bat which was interesting because I hadn't been aware that she was into girls when we were in high school. I had never hid that fact and in fact had flaunted it quite a bit, sometimes just to get a reaction. I wasn't the most mature, I'll admit, but I've grown up since then.

But getting back to the story, things with Julie fizzled out to the surprise of nobody and I found myself calling up Lindsey to see if she was interested in getting coffee. I kind of figured she'd just be flattered that the hot jock girl from high school was interested in her and I could leverage that into a fun, casual situation similar to my last several "relationships".

As it turned out, I had vastly underestimated her. I almost felt like I was at an interview and I ended up being the one trying to impress her. By the end of our "date", I was feeling rather wrung out and was oddly elated when she said she'd call me.

Sure enough, two days later I got a call and four days later I was taking her out to a nice restaurant. Things proceeded well from there, although there were a number of odd glances and weird little remarks that I couldn't figure out.

For example, she frequently brought up my diet and the amount of time I spent at the gym. Every other girl had been crazy about my lithe, firm form and understood the dedication it took to remain at peak shape. She'd sometimes mention my diet and gym regimen in an odd way, almost like she didn't fully approve.

"Hey, it takes work to look this good," I'd respond each time. "I know you don't want me porking up, right?"

I don't know if things would have come to a head by themselves or not, but one day we were in line at a fast food restaurant (a truly rare occurrence for us) and ran into another former classmate.

"Kaylee?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"Ohmygosh, Brittany!" she squealed, turning around and seeing me.

I was literally speechless as I stared at my former classmate. Kaylee had gone to the same college as me after high school and was also a very devoted athlete. At 6'2", she played basketball and softball mostly, I remembered the feel of her hard muscle under a thin layer of feminine softness.

Sure, we had hooked up a few times. Or maybe more than a few.

Now, though, I could not find the words to describe what I saw in front of me. Kaylee probably carried a muscular 180 pounds on her when we graduated. Now she must have been pushing 230 at least, and it certainly was not muscle.

"Uh, what, um, how?" I stammered, trying to find some non-offensive way to ask how she had blimped up so much over the past four years or so.

"Hi Kaylee," Lindsey smiled.

"Oh, yeah, Lindsey right? How are you doing?"

"Good, really good. You here for lunch?"

"Yup," Kaylee chuckled, patting her substantial paunch. "I was feeling rather peckish."

"Would you like to join us?" Lindsey asked her.

"I'd love to!"

"Yeah, that'll be, um good," I managed to chime.

My eyes bugged out when Kaylee ordered four cheeseburgers, two fries, and two milkshakes. She blushed a little as she told us she was extra hungry today. Lindsey and I ordered our salads and joined Kaylee at a table.

It was less awkward as we caught up a bit, Lindsey told the story of how we met and how long we'd been dating. Kaylee was teaching 7th grade social studies and coaching junior high basketball and volleyball.

I watched her eat with a combination of fascination and horror. My formerly super fit friend was pounding down more calories in one sitting than I usually ate in two days. At some point I noticed that Lindsey's hand had crept over to rest on my leg. No one else could see her, but I began to feel her fingers trailing up and down the inside of my thigh.

"Oh, that hit the spot," Kaylee finally groaned after draining her last milkshake.

Every crumb was gone, all that remained in front of her were the empty containers that served as a monument to her incredible gluttony.

"Sure you had enough?" Lindsey teased.

"Oh yeah, you see this food baby?" Kaylee chuckled, patting her swollen midsection.

"Mmm, food babies are hot," Lindsey replied, her fingers squeezing my leg.

**What the hell?!?!**

"Ooh, a girl after my own heart," Kaylee winked.

"Definitely," Lindsey purred. "Nothing better than feeding up a gal until she feels like she's just finished Thanksgiving dinner."


My head was literally spinning at this point, it was almost as if these two were speaking a different language.

"So what are you doing with this stick?" Kaylee asked, nodding at me.

"Oh, don't worry about Brittany," Lindsey replied. "She definitely has promise."

She squeezed my leg again. Shortly afterward I was hugging Kaylee as we were about to go our separate ways, aware of both her softness and the firm, round gut that was pressing into me.

As Lindsey and I walked back to the car, I blurted out, "What the hell was that all about?!"

"Oh, did I never mention I like fat chicks?" Lindsey asked innocently.

"Wh-wha-what???"
< br>"Well, not just fat girls. I like watching girls get fat. Especially girls that start out nice and fit like you."

"Were you ever like planning on telling me this?" I asked, still incredulous.

"Oh sure, it always comes up sooner or later," she chuckled. "Usually when my girlfriend is confused why she can't fit in her favorite jeans. Or why she can't remember her last trip to the gym but the pizza place knows her by name. Or when I'm encouraging her to eat another cupcake while I eat her out."

I missed a step and stumbled. For a moment I stammered dumbly, wondering if I'd somehow woken up in a weird parallel universe.

"You . . . you weren't going to try that with me, were you?" I finally asked.

"Oh sure, I was just waiting for the right moment," she said casually. "I guess now's as good a time as any. So what do you think?"

"About what? Gaining weight? Getting fat?"

"Yeah."

"N o way! No way in hell!"

"Oh c'mon, please?"

"What? No! This is crazy. I mean, I can't get fat. I . . ."

To my horror, I couldn't think of why. Why couldn't I get fat? I didn't play sports anymore. I was in a relationship, and apparently that wouldn't hurt it at all. What if I did just let myself go for a while?

I think the reason I was so unprepared for this suggestion was that it literally never occurred to me before. You just didn't get fat. That was the narrative I grew up with and everything I ever experienced only reinforced it.

I say all that to explain why a strong, smart woman like myself ended up being very vulnerable to this extremely unorthodox suggestion.

"Just for a month," Lindsey pushed. "Just one month. Thirty days. C'mon, how much damage could I possibly do in thirty days?"

The next evening I found myself wondering that very thing as we sat down for dinner. Somehow Lindsey had maneuvered me into agreeing to her bizarre request, to have her feed me for a month. I still have no idea how she got me to say yes.

I swallowed as she delivered a gigantic square of lasagna onto my plate.

"Enjoy," she winked.

I swore silently as I took my first bite, it was delicious. Slowly the butterflies in my stomach were replaced by noodles, meat, and cheese. Warmly full after the first serving, I felt an odd twist in my stomach as she gave me seconds. Now it was really starting.

Not used to overeating, all these sensations were very new to me. First there was the way I had to relax my stomach muscles to allow for more food. Then the unfamiliar pinching of my waistband. Lindsey smirked as I finally unbuttoned my jeans. By the end I was flushed, sweating, constantly burping quietly to relieve the pressure.

"Done," I announced as I swallowed the last bite.

I sat back in my chair, too quickly it turned out. I groaned out loud as my sides cramped.

"Well done, I'm impressed," Lindsey told me.

I have to admit that I felt a small amount of satisfaction that I had pleased her. How on earth did that woman make me care so much about what she thought?

Half an hour later I was naked and laying on our bed as Lindsey squirted lotion into her hands and told me to relax. First she focused on my still tender and disturbingly rounded belly, her fingers gently easing away the rest of the discomfort. Then she moved on to other areas, bringing each muscle group to a state of total relaxation until I felt more liquid than solid, softly moaning in pleasure.

Those moans increased in volume as her fingers started working on my inner thighs. She had me babbling out loud by the time she put my legs over her shoulders and pressed her lips against mine.

Some several orgasms later she whispered into my ear as I began to drift off to sleep.

"29 more days."

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