William would love to see her getting fat. He'd openly admitted to his preference for chubby chicks. He'd actually said that. 'Chubby'. Like it was some cute little imperfection that just made the rest of her look even better. She supposed that, for him, it wasn't an imperfection. He'd told her that he loved her no matter if she weighed one 'hundred' pounds or one *thousand* pounds. But she knew he'd love to see her gain that extra hundred... or two. Eating more, stuffing her face, being a pig for him. Fattening herself up like one too. He'd tried convincing her of how good it could feel, when a fat admirer got his girlfriend big and bulging, bursting out of her bra. She squeezed a handful of her breasts. They were large enough, but the way he'd described them...It was enough to turn her on just remembering it.
"First," he'd said, "you get dressed for a night out. Your usual tight shirt and skirt to show off your figure and those wonderful breasts. Then, me and you go to the Ponderosa, to their Saturday evening buffet. Then you sit down and I bring you a bowl of soup. That's to get you an appetite. You finish that and I bring some chicken, and another bowl of soup. The smell of the chicken wings hits your stomach and you start to feel real hungry. You want to eat them now, but I wait till you finish the whole bowl of soup. Then you can have the chicken wings. But they are gone so fast, because you were so hungry. And I made sure we were sat surrounded by heavy eaters, so it doesn''t seem like you ate much at all. And what your body doesn't realise is, I used the biggest plate they had but I only filled a quarter of it. So you feel like you haven't even eaten a first starter yet, except the soup. By the time you start to think about getting up for more, I'm already there with another plate, a quarter full of BBQ ribs. The real fatty pork kind. And you start eating, and I just take the first plate back up for more, so you can't compare how many ribs I eat, to how many you eat. I come back with the plate and some meatballs and pasta. I take the second plate back for more, even though you would normally feel full. And by the end of the night, you've finished off about two and half of the enormous plates without realising it, and you were full twenty minutes ago, but you only just start to feel it now." He rubbed his hand on her belly then.
"Then we take you home, and we have to tease the clothes slowly off you, and I massage your stomach. That night, you fall asleep in my arms. And all that food starts to digest, and you get ever so slowly bigger. Then we do it all over again. And again, and again, till you say so. And these," He grasped her breasts gently from behind, "begin to swell and grow, and when I try to hold them, they fill my arms. You get bigger, and softer and I lose myself in you, in your lush fat body."
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