#biggestboss

Lumiette (biggestboss)

Dodge magical bullets in an imaginary sonicscape.

Ten years later.

Brent and I built a life together in San Francisco. It was hard at first; the city is expensive, fast paced, and pedestrian friendly, all of which made gaining weight more difficult. That certainly did not deter Brent or me in our quest for fatness, however.

We got married soon after moving. It was primarily a paper wedding for tax and health care benefits, but as time progressed our love only grew deeper. I was proud to call Brent my husband. After several years working for others, Brent left his job and started his own clothing boutique. It was terrifying at first, but ultimately a success.

When we first arrived to San Francisco I was about 270 pounds of blubber. My weight continued to fluctuate for a few years as I got used to the city. Once we became more financially secure though, the pounds started rising. I got down to 220 at one point and then blew up to 300 pounds in a little over a year, which is where I’ve been for sometime now. I don’t plan on gaining any more as I enjoy being able to stroll around the city and fit in somewhat stylish clothes.

My fat is now so all-encompassing that I am constantly aroused. When I walk, my belly pushes my belt into my pubic fat which in turn massages my cock. It causes me to get boners constantly. I have to jerk off at least twice a day just to feel comfortable. And, needless to say, sex with Brent is fucking amazing.

In the summertime, I enjoy wearing a too small T-shirt that shows off a small crescent of belly. I’ll go to the deli and buy two foot-long sandwiches, which I lug to the park. By the time I get there, my shirt is drenched with sweat. Huge wet marks surround my armpits, trail down my back, and sometimes my double chin even makes my collar wet. When I arrive, I plant myself on a bench and devour the sandwiches, allowing dressing to drip all over stomach. I almost always get a few looky-loos who marvel at the piggish fat man stuffing his face. The whole time my cock is hard as a rock, but no one can tell hidden under the fat rolls.

Brent far surpassed me in terms of weight gain. He was slow going at first, but when he began running his own place, the stress caused him to balloon. He was constantly comfort eating, and when I saw this start to happen I made an effort to always keep fattening junk food in the house. He would plow through a box of Cheez-Itz sitting at his desk, or come home and demolish a pint of ice cream before dinner. Brent was sometimes gaining up to four pounds a week. He eventually grew bigger than me, finally plateauing at 382 pounds. Occasionally, he’d make a remark about needing to lose some weight after struggling to tie his shoes, or breaking a sweat folding laundry, but we both knew that would never happen.

Quite simply, we were in love with each other, our fat, and our life. We had finally gone to hog heaven.

One day Brent and I were sprawled on the couch together, two venti frappuccinos on the coffee table, alongside a bowl of gooey marshmallows with melted chocolate and peanut butter on top. Brent was flipping through the channels when I saw something that caught my eye. Before us was a TV documentary about gainers. We could not believe it. In a typical, sensationalized manner they were showing YouTube clips and blurred out Grommr profiles. However, what came as the greatest shock of all, was that they were interviewing an almost unrecognizable Nicoli and Grasello.

By the end of their two week tour of American fast food, all three of us had gained weight. Grasello could barely squeeze into his jeans and had to go out two holes on his belt. I had gained a considerable amount but it wasn’t obvious on my skinny body. However, after weeks of eating so poorly I constantly felt bloated and sweaty. Nicoli had transformed into a complete and utter hog. He was constantly eating something. All his clothes were too small and stained with food. He’d let his beard grow and was showering less than normal. The best part of all was that his libido was through the roof, as was mine after watching all of his piggish behavior.

Midway through the trip, Grasello invited me to move back to Italy to “work” with him and Nicoli. I was resistant at first, but by the end of the trip I’d been swayed. After Nicoli and Grasello left, I worked for a couple more weeks in the states before selling my belongings and flying to Italy.

I arrived at Grasello’s mansion eagerly anticipating the future ahead of me. I had been told I would be on salary, but I wasn’t completely sure what I’d be doing- if anything at all. It turned out Grasello just needed some help with bookkeeping and spreadsheets.

I settled into my life in the Italian countryside quickly and easily. I worked a few days out of the week and the rest of the time I had off. I would spend my days hiking, exploring, and taking in the surrounding sights. Of course, there was frequent sex between the three of us, but especially between Nicoli and myself. Grasello kept the house constantly stuffed with fresh home-made food, booze, and pot, so it wasn’t hard to keep everyone’s weight up. It was agreed upon that Nicoli and I were to gain a minimum of four pounds a month. Our measurements would be taken and we would be weighed at the end of each month. Every Sunday we would have a feast where everyone, including Grasello, would eat fatty, calorie-stuffed foods continually all day long. We were expected to consume thousands of calories on these days. Outside of eating, all we would do on Sundays is sleep and fuck. It was truly paradise.

One year later.

When I moved in with Grasello I weighed 160 pounds at about six foot. I was lean and fit, blending in to the typical standard of beauty. After a year living in Italian Hog Heaven, I had gained about 60 pounds. Sitting around 240, I was no longer the lanky twenty something I had been most of my life. My thighs were swollen and doughy, no longer fitting into any of my skinny jeans. My stomach now entered the room before the rest of me. I had a definite overhang that jiggled and wobbled with my every step, cough, and sneeze. I had never been this fat before in my life and the pure eroticism of it was overwhelming at times.

I had fat in places I didn’t even know could get fat. My soft arms now bulged out of short sleeve tees. My jawline had become puffy and bulgey. When I smiled, I looked positively jolly. The fatter my chest got the more sensitive my nipples became. They were now a central erogenous zone during sex and it drove me wild. My gut was so fat it was now uncomfortable for me to lay on my stomach or do much bending over. Perhaps the most surprising part was how easily winded I became. Simple things like going up stairs or sweeping the floor left my brow sweating and my chest heaving.

Grasello never revealed how much he gained, but he’d definitely gotten bigger. His clothes were constantly getting re-tailored, and, for the first time, small stretch marks were developing along his underbelly.

Not surprisingly, Nicoli experienced the biggest change. The man that once looked carved from Greek marble, now could have been the poster child for the obesity epidemic. When I first returned to Italy, Nicoli, standing a bit shorter than me, weighed 210 pounds. After a year of uninhibited gluttony, Nicoli was pushing 350 pounds. In front of my eyes I had watched him transform into a massive, greedy, smelly, eating machine. His belly now filled his lap when he sat down. At all times of the day he could be seen reclining on a lounge chair, with one hand holding a glass of wine which rested on his oversized stomach. He rarely moved or did anything beyond eat and fornicate. Such days of gluttony and laziness had led to stretchmarks appearing all over Nicoli’s belly and lovehandles.

Unfortunately, my waist line was shrinking as the trip progressed. This was largely due to a lack of funds. I didn’t want to spend my money on food when there were so many sights to see and places to go. I also was much more active than I had ever been at home. Previously, the most exercise I got was walking between my car and whatever building I was headed to. In Italy, all I had were my two feet and public transportation.

In an attempt to help satisfy my lust, Nicoli took me to all the leather and bear bars he knew of. We didn’t have much luck, which surprised me. In the US, these old burly men would have been all over us. Our lucky break came one night when we moved to the bar area after a dinner date at a fancy restaurant. Nicoli and I were having some one on one time, when the bartender poured us two free drinks. I asked who they were from, and he pointed to a man sitting at the other end of the bar. The man smiled and nodded at us.

From the looks of him, he was in his 30s. He had a head of thick dark hair and scruff to match. He was tall with broad shoulders, and from the neck up you’d never guess he was about 40 pounds overweight. He wore a tight, designer button up that seemed tailor made for his round, protruding belly.

Nicoli and I looked at each other in gleeful surprise. We decided to have Nicoli smile and signal the man over. As the man stood up I realized he was even bigger than I had thought, probably about 60 pounds overweight. His jeans clung tightly to thick thighs that rubbed together with each step. His bulge was rounded and pronounced, only slightly eclipsed by his overhang. The man had a perfect V-shape corrupted by love handles that hung suspended over designer jeans. Despite the belly, his pecs were muscular and defined. The top buttons of his shirt were left undone, displaying luxurious chest chair connecting to his beard. My mouth was watering.

He took a seat next to Nicoli and introduced himself as Grasello. Small talk was made and after a few drinks I was feeling a heavy buzz. The more Grasello talked, it became obvious he was a wealthy man. The three of us chatted for about two hours, and Grasello kept the alcohol pouring. Nicoli and I were pretty drunk by the time he invited us back to his place. The three of us stumbled out of the bar to find Grasello’s driver waiting for us with a car full of champagne and liquor.

We eagerly climbed into the back seat, Grasello in the middle. Nicoli began making out with Grasello. I watched for a few moments as my cock stiffened. I began massaging Grasello’s thick, sausage thighs, before moving up to his belly and chest. Grasello then pushed Nicoli and myself together. We began making out as Grasello rubbed my cock through my pants.

The rest of the car ride we drank, fondled, and made out with one another. When we arrived I sobered up for a moment at the sight of Grasello’s home. This man clearly was a multi-millionaire. It felt like we were in a movie.

I was accepted into a one-year program to study art and architecture in Italy and had to leave my job at Metro behind. The fantasies of Brent and I had yet to cum true, but we both were finishing the year a good deal thicker than how it began.

Brent had gained maybe 20 or 30 pounds. However, a lot of it was muscle so he didn’t look exponentially bigger. Still, Brent was now a full blown hottie in my mind.

I had also gained about 20 pounds and most of it sat in my gut. I now had a healthy paunch that poked at my shirts. It jiggled as I walked and hung over my lap when I sat down. I was not a true fatty yet, but I looked like a guy that partied a bit too much. I had gone up two pant sizes and was wearing a 34. I could still squeeze into some of my small T-shirts, and believe me I would, but medium and large was what I needed to be buying. The most exciting part for me was my pubic area, which was now just as soft and squeezable as my tummy. I took great pleasure in wearing old small and xtra small undies and watching my fat pad droop over the top of the waist line.

I was extremely excited to pork up on Italian food over the next year. The only thing that enticed me more than authentic Italian food was authentic Italian men.

The first boy I became close with was a local named Nicoli. He was perhaps one of the most attractive boys I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing naked. We met in a small, local museum where he was working the coat check. He was around my age, with a scruffy beard and messy hair. He had large, brown, puppy dog eyes that could make even the most heterosexual man melt.

The first time we hung out we drank beers on the beach. One six pack turned to two, and day turned to night. We began to make out at sunset, slowly taking off each other’s clothes. Nicoli had a beautiful spread of chest hair that just barely connected to his beard. His abdomen was soft and flabby with a good twenty pounds of fat hanging from it. The soft, dark hair on his chest also covered his belly, concealing a few small stretch marks. I let my mouth explore every dimple, roll, and curve of his body. It was hot outside and his stench was completely intoxicating.

I turned him on his stomach to discover an ass that looked like it was a Greek sculpture, plump and rounded to perfection. I licked and bit at his hairy asshole. Once he was relaxed I spread his fleshy cheeks apart and began to fuck him. After awhile, he rolled me over and started servicing my hole. We ended up taking turns fucking each other for about an hour.

I got a job at a local retail chain when I was 24. The store was called Metropolis, often shortened to Metro, and sold hip clothes at a discounted price. It was in the arena of stores like H&M or Gap. I had only worked one other job at that point in my life, and it was short lived. So I was looking forward to a new source of income.

I had gone through a few boyfriends by the time I started working there, but had never found exactly what I was looking for. I was looking for a boy with a belly. I’d realized and accepted my attraction to chubby guys in my early teens, but growing up in image-concious Orange County made it difficult for me to actually get my hands on one. It was incredibly frustrating but something I’d come to accept.

I experimented with my own weight here and there. I found it fun- showing off a little beginner belly in the tightest clothes I owned, getting pinches and pokes from friends. However, it was incredibly difficult to keep my weight up. And my true fantasy was to watch someone else get fatter. To watch their belly grow outward until it began to hang. To feel their love handles expand week by week. To watch them slowly outgrow their favorite clothes, unable to stop eating.

When I started at Metro I was attempting to gain in full force, and it was working slowly but surely. Every day I got lunch at a different fast food place, rotating between Del Taco, Taco Bell, Carl’s Jr., McDonald’s, Pizza Hut, and Burger King. I had a rule that I could consume no less than 1,500 calories for lunch. If I had Taco Bell or McDonald’s though, I usually could stuff in 2,500. My starter belly was small but prominent, and I proudly showed it off whenever I could.

My first day at Metro I arrived in the cutest outfit I could put together. I was told that half my outfit always had to be purchased from the store. I met my co-workers who were the vapid clothing obsessed girls and gays I had anticipated working with. The owner of the store was a friendly woman in her fifties who seemed to keep out of the way mostly. My manager, Brent, was male, early thirties, and dressed rather conservatively. He had dark hair, always clean shaven, and somewhat small in stature. He was cute enough, but I wasn’t too interested. I assumed he was gay for several weeks before my co-workers informed me that he had a wife and children. Furthermore, he was Mormon! I was shocked and dismayed. It was clear he was gay, and I pitied him for still being closeted at that age.

As the months progressed, Brent started to warm up to me quite a bit. To the point where I became pretty convinced he was hitting on me. We shared a similar sense of humor and would crack darkly sarcastic jokes at each other’s, and our co-workers’, expense. We also shared a love of horror movies and all things strange and bizarre. I did enjoy his company, but never was very attracted to him. He wasn’t unattractive by any means, he just never did it for me.

After a few months of working at Metro, Brent started to grow a beard. This was when I first bore an inkling of attraction towards him. The beard made him look older, more masculine, and he pulled it off well. Shortly after the beard it became apparent that Brent was trying to bulk up. He started going to the gym every morning. He would come into the store in his sweats and under armour, sucking down a chalky looking smoothie. He’d change in the bathroom.

Brent also started eating more. At first it was just a bag of nuts or granola he’d keep behind the counter. As the months progressed, he added yogurt, chips, glasses of milk, and peanut butter sandwiches to the mix. It got to the point where he almost always had some sort of healthy, but fattening, snack food in his hands. He took over a whole cupbord in the break room just for his snacks. The refrigerator had a constant supply of yogurt and peanut butter in it. He also seemed to go through a few gallons of milk a week.

The best though, was Fridays. Every Friday he’d break from his healthy diet and get an expansive spread of fast food for lunch. He had to of been spending $10-$15 on just one fast food lunch. Furthermore, the stuff he’d get was also smothered in cheese, grease, and meat. True artery clogging stuff. It became undeniable that this man was consciously trying to put on weight.

The strange thing was that he really wasn’t getting that big. Sure, he’d put on some weight and muscle; maybe 15 pounds in a couple months, but nothing too drastic. After awhile, I was definitely paying attention to Brent and his constant flirting began to work on me.