Chapter 1 - You Know

“When You Know, You Know”

Since you came into my life, it has been like living a fantasy. I’ve been able to eat everything I want, as much as I want, when I want.

And you don’t even care if I gain weight. In fact, you’ve told me repeatedly you want me to get bigger. That seems pretty inevitable with you around cooking delicious dinners and delectable desserts, taking me to the buffet, getting tons of food delivered, and packing my lunches for work.

Which brings us to today. A lot of my co-workers started making fun of me and teasing me when they saw the lunch you had packed me.

"No wonder you're getting so fat," Joe said. "That new girlfriend of yours had better stop feeding you so well, or she's gonna have a real hog on her hands."

I just grunted, and took a large bite of one of the juicy roast beef sandwiches you had packed. "Mmmmm," I moaned, as I reached in my lunchbox for a thick slice of chocolate cream pie. My co-workers just looked at me with disgust, one saying, "Fatty, you ain't gonna be able to fit through the door, you keep eating like that."

Little do they realize, but I've got a beautiful girlfriend who doesn't care how much I eat, in fact wants me to eat even more fattening stuff. The only thing that tastes better than this pie, hun, is you. Joke's on them!

That kind of teasing used to bother me some before I met you. But you have rescued me from all that. In fact, you told me that what attracted you to me was not just merely my 205-pound frame, but the fact that you could tell I'd been gaining for a while -- due to my tight pants and shirt.

My ex-girlfriend had left me because I'd started packing on weight during the pandemic. But you . . . you . . . You are a treasure for me, Entwined in our common desires, we are soulmates.

And it's not just about being fat -- or getting fatter. You have made me give in to every pleasure I ever dreamed of. It's heavenly. When I'm hungry, you make sure I eat. And I get to eat whatever I am craving with no consideration of whether it's good for me or not.

Because it’s always good for me, you reassure me. This feels right. And you are the right person for me. When you know, you just know.

At first, I did feel a little guilty because I felt so greedy and hoggish, losing all inhibitions. I ate an entire pizza our first night together, and you asked if I was still hungry. And I found that I was still hungry, or at least you helped me believe in my capacity. You unlocked something in me.

Your belly rubs and sensuous talk kept me aroused, as you fed me more and more. I barely remembered eating the first slice of that extra-large pizza, and soon, it was gone, and I was licking your fingers, as you stuffed the last garlic butter-dipped crust between my lips.

Even though I'd already been eating a lot -- and gaining -- that was nothing compared to what happened when we got together. I felt I might get too carried away, but you helped soothe those thoughts and made it seem the most nature thing in the world that my appetite -- and my belly -- were growing faster than ever.

My belly was already rounded out when we met, and you'd grab a small handful and tell me how much you loved fat boys. Soon, one pizza was not enough to fill me, and that small handful of flab outgrew your delicate slim-fingered hands. I was growing a soft round gut thanks to your encouragement and love.

When I was around you, I always seemed to want more to eat, no matter how much you had already fed me. I seemed never to be satisfied. You made bingeing such a pleasure, especially when we ended up in bed.

At first, I worried that my weight might squash you. My ex complained about how heavy I'd become, and she would often end sex early because she said I was just too heavy for her. Plus, I'd become quite unfit, and while on top, I would sometimes collapse all out of breath from thrusting my cock into her, my belly smashing her with every impact.

But you never seemed concerned when we made love. In fact, you said you enjoyed me atop you, squishing you into the mattress. But as I get heavier, I do worry I will hurt you or smother you. And really, I don't have much stamina for fucking now. I mean, my cock still has plenty of stamina, it's just that I can't sustain being on top for long without getting a bit out of breath.

At first, it was just our dates when I would overeat so much! You encouraged me, and I couldn't say no, especially knowing you would fuck me senseless later that evening. You would cook me a huge meal, feed it to me, fuck me, then turn on a movie to wind down, before getting me a snack -- or two or three — and feeding me into the night.

Soon, we were spending entire weekends together -- days and nights of pure joy for the both of us, as I ate everything you served me, and we made love and love handles almost continuously. You were worried I'd burn too many calories while having sex, so you always kept fattening snacks on the bedside table to feed me while I pounded you into the mattress with my hefty body. Come Sunday night, I'd realize the sink was full of dirty dishes and the bedroom full of empty pizza boxes, wrappers, and chip bags. But I couldn't stop.

Food and your beautiful slim body next to mine, these things occupy my thoughts all the time. I'm eating everything I ever wanted completely guiltfree. And I am enjoying you and eating my cake too, haha.

The only consequence is that my clothes are really getting tight now. And I'm an XL now, but you remind me that clothes come in sizes with lots of Xs, and I need not worry. There's lots of room for me to move up in sizes. You tell me you'll get me an XXL next time you're at the store. And also larger pants to accomodate my love handles, thickening thighs and growing ass.

As I waddle to see you today, I know that you are preparing me a feast worthy of my appetite, and that as soon as I finish the last bite, you'll be pulling me toward the bedroom. Lately, you've started feeding me while we make live, and that has really turned on my appetite. I can't wait to see you.

I open the door, and yell, "Honey, I'm home" like one of those 1950s American hubbies. You greet me in just an apron and pull me toward our kitchen and another night of pleasure.