The Double Date: Part 4 (Unfinished Draft) (Patreon)

Author's Note: Here is the first 1,200 words of the next part of TDD! I've hit my word count this week, next week expect the rest of this part and another update to Amber's adventures! Have a great night!

Thanks for all the support!

-Polaris

.................................................................................

The Double Date

Part 4

I knew I needed to put the brakes on gaining weight before it got out of control. Feedism was Calab’s fetish, not mine. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself...

I could contain my imagination’s strange new fixation, for the most part, when I was by myself, but then I moved out of my sister’s place and in with Calab, and all bets were off. Knowing what Calab couldn’t resist was too tempting for me to resist. Around our apartment I made a point to wear clothes that were just a size or so too small for me. Feeling his eyes clued to my thicker body was oh so addicting but watching him get so flustered and horny when I overate was intoxicating.

I loved driving him crazy, arousing him at all times of the day, using his secret desire to see my body continue to expand to my advantage. I would let my newfound gut poke out from under my undersized pajamas, tank tops, and crop tops. Complain that I was hungry, even when I wasn’t. Pig out whenever he was watching, and he was always watching.

Calab was all over me. One second, I’d be bending over in the kitchen cleaning something up, and then the next second Calab would be dragging me into the bedroom for a satisfying and frisky romp in the sack. I never wanted this wonderful lusty love to stop, so I kept overeating. Every breakfast, lunch, and dinner Calab cooked for me, I’d ask for seconds, sometimes thirds. Snacking morphed into an ever-present hobby, especially late at night on the couch, cuddling with my man, watching TV and absolutely gorging myself on sugary breakfast cereals, frozen pizzas, and ice cream.

For a time, my worries about my rising weight dissipated, after all, now that I was living with Caleb, I didn’t have my sister pestering me about my inflating figure. The shock of transitioning from a fit former athlete to a chubby one had initially caused a stir among my group of friends and even among my coworkers, but eventually people seemed to get used to it, and the embarrassing interactions seemed to dwindle. I still had my moments, bumping into people I shouldn’t have because I wasn’t used to how wide my hips had spread, little wardrobe malfunctions, things like that, but I never was confronted with any true wake-up calls, so I just kept loving my life and sucking down calories like there was no tomorrow.

Eventually squeezing into my wardrobe became so much of a chore I dipped into Caleb’s. He had a plethora of sweatpants, and comfy t-shirts for me to slip into, although after a few months of living with Caleb, even some of his clothes were getting pretty tight on me.

Blinded by bliss, I didn’t really think about how much weight I was gaining. It was easier to enjoy the ride than face the consequences of my newfound gluttony. So, I let myself continue down the fattening path I was on. Until one day, shortly after our one-year anniversary, my sister reached out, wanting to meet up for…

A double date.

I’d moved out six months ago, in that time we’d both gotten pretty busy, and comfortable with our newfound boyfriends. It had been forever since we’d done anything truly exciting, so Grace suggested the four of us hit up a nightclub. I agreed without a second thought about what I would wear.

Then reality set in, and I got my first real wake-up call in months.

I’d outgrown every last cocktail dress I owned months ago, and I hadn’t replaced them with cute outfits in larger sizes, I’d simply been way too lazy. I couldn’t go to a club in a tight pair of Caleb’s sweatpants. I needed to do the unthinkable. I needed to ask my older sister if she had something in my size.

Her response via text message was as predictable as it was smug:

Sure. What size are you now?

Fatty

Blushing with embarrassment, I honestly had no idea. Rather than heave my fattened ass up off the couch and look in a mirror or step on a scale, I simply pulled up my Instagram and started scrolling through recent photos of me that my friends had taken when we were out and about. One of the pictures was a full body photo of me from the side, and my jaw literally dropped when I saw it. I looked… pregnant.

I was wearing a pair of Caleb’s grey sweatpants and a shabby tank top, but I realized for the first time there was a massive belly protruding out super far over the waistline, and love handles being squeezed out over the sides. My top was stretched so tight across my stomach that you could see the indent of my belly button, but that wasn’t even the worst of it, when my eyes gazed a little lower, I was absolutely mortified.

Each individual thigh of mine looked practically larger than my waist used to be back when I’d been a 120-pound fit girl. And my ass… My ass looked thicker and squishier than my belly did. A year into my relationship with a fat fetishist and it had finally happened, I didn’t look thick, I didn’t look curvy, I didn’t look pudgy. To my eyes, I looked well and truly chubby. With a softened face, soft squishy arms, and sadly breasts that hadn’t inflated nearly as much as my gut or butt, I’d transformed into a plump bottom-heavy blimp.

Dropping my phone onto the couch next to me and looking down in momentary horror, my eyes saw fatter breasts that had lost some of their previous perkiness, a bulbous belly that had been constantly overfed, and massive thunder thighs. A simple flustered cough was enough to cause my swollen figure to jiggle, EVERYWHERE, as if to emphasize just how far I’d let myself go in such a short amount of time.

Heaving myself out of my exceedingly comfortable position on the couch, I wobbled to my feet, trying to find my center of gravity, only to realize it had changed. Not wanting to alert Caleb, I quietly snuck away to our bathroom, my feet clumsily plodding. I could feel my thighs jiggling with every step and my fat bottom twitching upward and downward, as if each cheek was bouncing rhythmically. I needed to know the damage. I needed to know how far I had let myself fall in my quest to satisfy Caleb’s secret fetish.

The second I arrived in front of the bathroom mirror; I peeled the t-shirt of Caleb’s I was wearing upward and looked with a sense of awe at the extent my greedy pot-belly had grown. Thick and plump with a pair of juicy love handles to boot. It was plenty of flesh for Caleb to grab, pinch, and kiss, but way too much to make any dress I borrowed from Grace look remotely flattering.

That’s when it hit me.

“My belly looks just as big as Grace’s…” I gasped quietly, as I bent over and rushed to find my scale under the sink. No sooner did I grab it and toss it on the ground in front of me, than I stepped upon it and stared with worry at the number that seemed especially slow to blink…

TBD