Surprises Bring Life

Chapter 1

I’ll never forget the way she looked that afternoon when I picked her up from the airport. She was such a petite little waif of a woman, so slender and slim. Her long dark hair was done up in a ponytail that bounced around behind her as she walked through the gate, and her beautiful smile lit up like a Christmas tree the moment she spotted me. She came running to me and threw her arms around me, her thin and bony arms wrapping themselves tightly around my thick and soft frame. She dug in hard and squeezed me as tightly as she could, and she hung on to me as if her life depended on it.

We must have stood there in the middle of the airport terminal for a good ten minutes, locked in a loving embrace. I could feel her tremble with emotion as she lost herself in my softness.

This was, after all, the reason why she was here.



I met Dayanorah the way any other chubby guy from the suburbs of Philadelphia would meet a young bronzed-skinned goddess from the Dominican Republic: on the internet. I was surprised to find her on a website made specifically for women who were looking to meet fat guys, or “big handsome men” as we are known in such circles. There was a bit of a language barrier, but we managed to communicate with one another through a mutual love of food and of eating. She told me how much she loved to cook, and how much she just wanted to meet a chubby guy like me that she could feed and fatten up for the rest of her days.

As surprised as I was to learn that I was the ideal man that she was looking for, I was equally surprised to learn that she had a desire to be fattened up herself. At first I couldn’t be sure that she really knew what she was saying, but it became clearer and clearer over the course of our chats with one another that she knew exactly what she wanted, and she was willing to do whatever it took to make it happen.


“Greg,” I could hear her say softly, her voice muffled from her head being buried in my meaty chest, made even softer by the plushness of my thick sweater-vest. “So happy to see you.”

“I’m happy to see you too, Daya,” I said to her, pleased at how much English she had picked up in the four short months since we started talking to one another. I began wondering then whether or not it would be prudent for me to kiss her. I mean, I knew for sure that I wanted to give her a big hug when I saw her, but I hadn’t really thought far enough into the future to know what would be expected of me in this moment. Fortunately for me, I wouldn’t have to wonder too long, as Daya lifted her head from my chest and wrapped her hands around the back of my neck, pulling me close to her so she could kiss me with her soft and supple lips.

By this time I was beginning to tremble as well. This was like something out of my wildest dreams: a gorgeous chick I barely knew had flown thousands of miles to see me, to hug and kiss me, to feed me and fatten me up – and to get fattened up herself. I began to wonder if any of this was even real.

“Greg,” she said to me when she finally pulled herself away from me, staring up at me with her big dark eyes, “I am hungry now. You feed me?”

“Yes,” I said to her with a big dumb smile on my face, “let’s go eat now.”


We left the airport and I brought her immediately to one of the finest buffet restaurants in the city. If she was serious about her desires to be in a mutual gaining relationship with me, then this was her chance to prove it. Perhaps she was a bit shy, or still a bit jet lagged from her trip, but it seemed at first to take her a while to warm up and rise to the occasion. My first two or three plates were all as mountainous as they usually would be, as I was no stranger to the buffet line. Daya on the other hand seemed to be a bit picky at first. However, after a little while, she began going up to the buffet line with a bit more frequency, each time she’d come back with her plate loaded up a bit more robustly.

We didn’t talk much during that first meal together, at least not with words, but in a way we were communicating about what we liked to eat and how we each approached something like this. I could see that she liked to have a lot of options, not taking too much of any one thing at a time, but rather taking small portions of many different kinds of foods. I on the other hand would take as much of any one thing that I wanted as I could possibly fit on my plate before moving on to something else. It was fascinating to see the subtle differences between us.

One thing we both seemed to have in common though was our respective appetites, both of us eating voraciously in our own ways. I was nothing short of impressed by her abilities; she was an absolute eating machine, packing away plate after plate, keeping pace with me at every step.


Hours later we left the restaurant, both of us feeling full and fat. We got into my car, and before I could even insert the key into the ignition, Daya’s hand went right for my belt buckle, opening it up and let my big stuffed belly come flying forward. Her tongue poked through her front teeth playfully as she began to massage my massive gut. “So fat!” she cooed under her breath as she started rubbing me with both hands.

“That feels good,” I said.

“So big belly,” she said with a chuckle, “I want big belly also.”

“Yeah?” I said, turning and looking at her. “You ready for more?”

Daya just nodded her head as she continued to knead at my rolls of plumpness. She then opened up her pants and lifted her shirt, revealing her slightly swollen but still very modest paunch. She patted herself on her gut, then slapped mine, making it jiggle about wildly. Her point was well taken – she had some catching up to do.

On the way back to my place, I stopped off at several drive through windows, getting greasy bags full of cheeseburgers, fries and chicken sandwiches. Then I stopped into a local pizzeria where I got six large pies for the two of us to split. We both stuffed ourselves like pigs as we made our way back to my place. When we got there, we were both so turned on that we busted through the door and instantly started tearing one another’s clothes off. We spent the rest of the day alternating between the kitchen and the bedroom, making love for hours then feeding one another into the wee hours of the morning.

As the sun began to peek through the blinds, I looked over at Daya, passed out and stuffed, laying on my bed looking like a worn out ragdoll. Playing the events of the day over in my mind, I couldn't help but wonder exactly what I had gotten myself into.

It wouldn't be long before Dayanorah started to pack on some serious weight. At first almost all of it went to the lower half of her body, her ass getting fuller and plumper by the day, her thighs growing thicker and her hips getting so wide that after just two months of living together they were practically touching the sides of the doorways as she walked through. As her hips grew wider though, it seemed to allow her belly to have more room to expand – and expand it did!

People who would see us together began to wonder if she was pregnant, that’s how much her belly started growing. After six months of the two of us being together, she started to get so full and so round that her girth nearly rivaled mine. Of course, I couldn’t help but gain some weight myself, as the two of us were constantly stuffing ourselves and one another.

Now I’ve been fat pretty much all of my life, but for the first time ever I was tipping the scales at over five hundred pounds. At a height of six foot five, I can carry it pretty well. Daya on the other hand is a real shorty, barely standing at five feet. We were shocked to learn however that she was nearly as heavy as I was, weighing in at just a little over four hundred and fifty pounds!

Daya was just getting so thick and so plump, and being the absolute chowhound that she was, there was no sign of her gains slowing down at all.

“If I go home now,” she said to me one day, “no one will know me. I am such a gordita now!”

“You sure are, baby,” I said to her as I patted her on her big round tummy, noting how much it now jiggled much in the way mine did, “you’re my sexy little gordita!”


Life was good, and the both of us were happy. However, like all good times, none can last forever. The day came when her visa expired, and she was at risk of being deported back to her country of origin. I was ready to let her go – I wanted these good times we had found to last forever. So I went to a jewelry store, bought a beautiful diamond ring, and I proposed to her that every night.

“I don’t want you to go,” I said to her, presenting the ring to her affixed to the top of a cupcake that was inside of a very ornate looking white box. “I want you to stay here with me, and I want to feed you and keep you fat and happy for the rest of your days.”

“Oh, Greg,” she said as the tears began streaming down her plump cheeks. “I want to be your fat wife, and I want you to be my fat husband!”

Less than a month later we were married in a small private ceremony at city hall. She was a gorgeous bride in a beautiful plus-size white dress that we had to have custom tailored to fit her ever-expanding figure. To celebrate, I got us a hotel suite in Atlantic City, a beautiful penthouse room with a view of the ocean. When we got to the suite, there waiting for us was a gorgeous five-tier wedding cake, which we quickly tore into, tearing our clothes off in a fit of passion, smearing cake all over ourselves and one another as we stuffed fistfulls of it into one another's mouths.


It’s hard to imagine how much my life has changed in just these last two years. I went from being a lonesome loser with no one and nothing, to one of the fattest and happiest guys you’d ever want to meet, and I owe it all to this wonderful woman and the plethora of joy that she has brought into my life.