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Since the Dimensions Weight Gain Stories site has gone away to be replaced by forums only, I've made it a personal mission to rescue some of the ones I feel are special and shouldn't be forgotten. They are not my stories, and I've included attribution where possible. Enjoy!

Fattest Girl in the World
by Click
"Careful there, Deb, or you're going to be the fattest girl in the world."*1

"Yeah, right, Daddy." I grinned at my father, then scooped a huge spoonful of apple pie and ice cream into my mouth. Dad laughed; he was only teasing. His latest Barbi glared her disapproval from across the table; that was okay, I didn't approve of her, either. I don't even remember her name, but it didn't matter; they were all alike, tall and slender and buxom and hard and fake, so I just call them all Barbi. Some of them never even notice. The cook smiled as she cleared the table; she knew who appreciated her food! She had a job for life, as long as she kept cooking like this!

Okay, I'll admit it. I'm a big girl; I hit 300 lbs. before I started my Junior year in high school; that was just a couple of months ago. It shows, too; I've got this big pillow of a belly that fills half my lap, and my breasts... well, they're big and soft, and they sort of lie on top of my belly when I'm sitting down. Big hips, of course, that goes with being a girl. Well, maybe not this big; they reach past both sides of my chair. So what? I think it's kind of kewl!

I know lots of girls don't feel that way. I'm always hearing the Barbi's whine about their weight, and the girls at school are almost as bad. I mean, it's so funny to hear someone half my weight complain how fat she is. Really? What does that make me? Don't answer that! At least I don't sit around and moan 'poor me, I'm so fat, no boy will ever ask me out!' To hear them speak, they sit home alone every Friday because they are soooo fat... like all the skinny girls go out every night with a different boy! I think not!

And they talk like the only point of living is to have a guy ask you out! Am I really going to let my happiness depend on what some guy decides to do? Get real! Not that I have anything against guys, of course. Far from it. It's not hard to attract a boy, if you are willing to put up with a jerk... which I am NOT. No, it's finding a quality male that's difficult. My friend Angela could be a swimsuit model, her waist is like the size of my thigh, and not my upper thigh, either; even she ends up sitting home some nights. Okay, yeah, she gets asked out more than I do, but I'm not complaining. At least not as much as a lot of girls, anyway.

Sometimes it makes me mad, though. When I hear girls whine about their little tummy, I want to knock the diet soda out of their hand, grab their shoulders and shake them, and yell "Look at Warren over there! He's cute. He's smart! He's funny! And he'll never ask you out because he's terrified you'll say no. I'd love to date him, except he's my cousin. And if you don't like Warren, a quarter of the guys at this school are in the same boat. Instead of sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, get over there and ask him for help with your Chemistry homework. You'll both have a great time.... and honestly, your grades could use some help, too."

There are even some guys who like big girls too, you know? Even as big as I am. I know this guy, let's call him Roger. One time I sat in his lap, just as a joke, you know? And he liked it! I had been sitting there and I was getting worried; so I asked if I was too heavy, and he said it was nice! He told me I was heavy, but it didn't hurt at all because I was so soft! I guess so! Anyway, I could tell he liked it because I could feel.... anyway, he really liked it! I hang around with him, but I'm really looking for someone who can speak in complete sentences.

*2

When I left the table, I was still thinking. Dad might have a point, even if he was just kidding. Come to think of it, that was my third helping of pie, and I've put on at least forty pounds in the past year. Not that I'm upset about that, but what if it keeps happening? Will I have to start watching what I eat? Not to get skinny, like that would ever happen! But will I have to cut back on what I eat just to stay the same size? It seems likely, unless I want to just keep getting bigger and bigger.

Somehow that thought stuck with me all evening; I couldn't get it out of my mind. Bigger and bigger? The fattest girl in the world? Ridiculous! I would have to be twice the size I am now... probably bigger! When I was watching TV with Dad I kept wondering how much of the couch I would fill up. That's when I realized I had just finished my second bowl of ice cream, on top of supper and all that pie. When I went to put the bowl in the dishwasher, I though 'why the heck not?' and got a another!

Up in my room I couldn't stop thinking about getting larger and fatter. I undressed for bed and looked at myself in the mirror. Yes, I was fat, no doubt about that! And it looked pretty good, all smooth and round and soft. Soft? I realized I was gently kneading a handful of belly fat in one hand, and man, was I ever soft!. Soft and warm and really nice...this was getting weird! Looking in the mirror, I tried to imagine myself larger. What would a hundred pounds do? With a shock, I realized I had probably gained a hundred pounds since puberty. Jeez! Maybe I had better cut back! Sometime soon, but not today. Well, not too soon... next year sounded better. Or maybe the year after that.

When I went to bed, I couldn't get to sleep. Fattest girl in the world? I mean, like HUGE?! How would I finish school? How would I work? Well, Dad's rich... he came up with a better way to make elbow joints for plastic water pipe... Big whoop!... unless you happen to be in the plumbing biz, in which case you pay Dad his first few million for the idea. So if I wanted to, I really could just sit around and be as fat as I wanted. And then I thought... right now, my career plans are writing or programming....not very active jobs. Hmm. This is crazy! Why am I even thinking about this? But I didn't stop.

So I just laid there in bed, all hot and bothered, and I just had to reach down and touch myself, only usually I'm thinking about Brad, or some movie hunk, but now I was thinking about me! This was just too, too strange!

The next morning I went to school; in the hall I met Angela, (bikini model covergirl, remember her?) and Brad (star of many romantic dreams, and if you tell him I'll kill you!) All the girls ooh and ahh over Brad; he's perfect. Tall, handsome, muscular, top of his class, captain of the football team... he's even going to West Point! Isn't that just too much? He's not a person, he's a cliche! Nice guy, but really serious. Too serious. Almost grim. Someday he'll die bravely winning a war or be the first person to land on Pluto or something like that. And maybe sometime he might even smile or crack a joke. Nah!

Brad usually goes out with Angela. Everyone assumes the two perfect people at school will naturally pair up. Not so, except by default. They are just good friends, but everyone is sure they are a couple. Brad is probably saving himself for marriage. Angela, on the other hand, will have trouble saving herself for this afternoon. No, that's not fair, she really isn't like that... but she told me she once let Brad know she was interested, but his reaction was 'I'm flattered, but no, thank you.' Maybe he's gay? I've heard all the great guys are gay. Hmmm.

I had just met Roger and Angela when Roger came around the corner. "Hi, guys!." he called. He came over. "Hi, uh, Deb," he grinned. That's just the way Roger is.

"Hi, uh, Roger," I teased.*3

He doesn't mind. Well, I guess he doesn't mind; he's never said anything. Then the bell rung and I had to go to class; Calculus is usually fun, like a puzzle, and history is always boring, but that's because of the way Ms. Pergintine teaches. Today, though, I don't think I learned a thing; all I could think about was getting fatter and being huge. At lunch I gobbled my meal, stole Roger's dessert, and stared longingly at Angela's plate, which still held almost all of her food.

Angela was on one of rants... 'It's so difficult being a girl with a body like mine.' No, she's not fishing for compliments; she does this all the time, and she means it.

"I didn't do anything to be this way; it's not anything I earned, but people all expect me to act a certain way and be a certain type of girl. I mean, I don't want people to think of me as just 'that girl with the big tits." Here's a girl who could be a Barbi, if she only had half as many brains. She does have a point, but that doesn't stop me from being sarcastic, usually. Today, though, I was distracted and let her ramble on, until she comes out with a comment like "It's such a burden to have breasts like these!" We all just stared at her! I mean, they're big, but not that big! I never knew she could blush like that.

School was over, so it was time to do some serious research. As I drove home, I made plans. First, hit the Net; there should be stuff about fat women somewhere; I mean, you can find anything on the net. Probably mostly weight loss sites: "Here's how big I used to be and how I lost it all" Still, there should be pictures, stories, all sorts of information. I could always look at the diets and do the opposite.

Hmmm.... Just how big was the heaviest woman in the world,. anyway? 700 pounds? 800? How much did she eat? Could she walk? This is crazy... but I can't stop thinking about it!

At home I started up to my room, then made a detour by the kitchen; I needed some calories! I got a huge bowl of ice cream, over half a carton, then added a big bag of chips. 'Chips first,' I thought; 'Nice and salty, and by the time I finish them the ice cream will be all soft and gooshy.' With greasy fingers I logged on and discovered a whole new world!

Here were women who made me look like Kate Moss! Women larger than me who posed ... well, I suppose you would have to call them dressed, but only technically. Sort of. Huge soft women who made little computer movies of themselves eating and rubbing their tummy and jiggling. Men who were begging for more pictures. I resolved to ask Dad for a digital camera for Christmas. No, for my birthday; I didn't get anyone prosecuted for being a pedophile. I mean, I know I'm mature and have good judgment (most of the time, anyway) but how would the law know?

I learned a new vocabulary, too. I already knew I was a "BBW", or maybe a "BBT", a Big Beautiful Teen. If I put on a few more pounds, I'll be "supersize". Any guy who was attracted to me would be, in my own opinion, a "Man of Good Taste". If he was attracted mainly because I was fat, though, he would be an "FA", or Fat admirer. Sounds like the same thing to me. I had suspected as much... bodies come in all shapes and sizes; doesn't it make sense that someone would be attracted to each and every type?

Here was something strange... A lot of women on BBW boards and chat lines complain about guys who are turned on by their fat. Excuse me?A man thinks you are beautiful and this is a problem? Not me! Oh, I guess I wouldn't want a guy whose only interest in me was my fat any more than Angela would want a guy who only cared about her boobs. Still, any applicant for the position of "Deb's Serious Boyfriend" had better be totally wild about my body, and that means attracted to fat.

I read more and started to find out the crowd I really belonged to. Some people really get into gaining weight or seeing someone else gain. Bingo! If a guy helped me gain, encouraged me to eat and told me how he loved me getting fatter, he would be a "Feeder". That sounded interesting.. I need one of those! Let's see.. If I gain, then I would be a "Feedee". I don't like that term... it sounds so passive, like I just receive food someone gives me. I need something more aggressive, like 'I'm going to stuff this body and make it grow'. There doesn't seem to be word for that... maybe I can come up with one?

I also found the word "immobile," meaning too heavy to walk or maybe even stand up. Did I want that? With a shock I realized that instead of a resounding NEVER! in my mind I was actually wondering what it would be like and how I could make it more pleasant.

I found Rosalie Bradford. She's the Guinness Book record holder for heaviest woman, at an estimated 1200 pounds. That's four of me! WOW! But she wasn't happy that size, so she lost it all. I could see that; what's the point of being something you don't enjoy? World record super-fat size should be reserved for people who get a thrill out of it. Like me? Maybe.

There were a couple of pictures there, but they weren't very good. I mean, I could see she was huge, but it was impossible to tell anything about her shape I looked down at myself. Four times the weight....

From downstairs I heard a guitar; that meant Dad was home. I had to talk this over with him, at least a little, so I pushed my fat thoughts aside and went downstairs.

*4

I found him doodling, writing a song. He's really good... I mean, like a pro. I walked up behind and listened a few minutes, and when he paused I cleared my throat.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Suppose a person wants to do something everyone else thinks is crazy? Something other people would think was weird, or unpopular, but you really think you might want to try."

"Why should you care what other people think? Don't even think of changing yourself to be popular." He really meant it.

"It's not about being popular, really... It's more like everyone would think this was a huge mistake"

"I take it this person is you?" I nodded. "And what are you thinking about doing?"

I shook my head. "Maybe nothing... I'm not sure. I'll tell you when I decide." Dad frowned, then shrugged. "I'll trust your good judgment, Honey." Have I got a great Dad, or what?

He looked down at the guitar in his hands, played a few notes and put it aside.

"Let me tell you a story. When I was in college, just a serious, straight-A engineering nerd, I was in a band. Not one you've ever heard of, but we were pretty good. And during my Junior year we got an offer to cut a record, plus be an opening act for some really big name groups. So I had to decide... did I want to go off and maybe become a rich and famous rock star, or did I want to finish school? You can guess what kind of advice I got, too, from my family, my professors, and all my friends around the engineering school. They said I had a great future, and I was going to throw it all away for a shot at some improbable dream."

"And you decided to do the smart thing and stay in school."

"Nope!" He grinned. "I dropped out and we started touring the Midwest. A different town every night... Booze, drugs, girls...I was never into the drug thing, though." Huh? Dad!? My Dad?

"And you didn't like it?"

He burst out laughing. "I loved it! A party every night, the girls.... Deb, this was the 80's... after 'the pill' and before anyone worried about HIV. And the music, and the crowds..." His voice trailed off. Dad?

"So what happened?"

"We stunk. Well, not really...the crowds loved us, but our album didn't sell and our label dropped us like a hot rock. After a year we broke up, and then I went back to school. Sure, I was a year behind, but I'm glad I did it. If I hadn't, I would have kicked myself about it my whole life."

I thought a moment. "So you're saying go for it?"

"I'm saying there are only a few things you can't change your mind and back away from. Most decisions don't have to be permanent. Is yours?"

"Maybe not..." Could I gain all this weight, then lose it?? That would be a heck of a diet! But it was possible, at least in theory.

"Deb? Before you do anything serious, talk to me, okay? And don't assume my answer will be an automatic 'No'"

"Okay, Dad."

"Oh... I've got a date coming over for supper, and then we're going out. Be nice, okay?" Another Barbie after Dad's money. Great.

"Okay. I'll be good." I resolved to be really nice, no matter what.

"And don't call her Barbie."

"Okay... what's her name?" I guess they have names...

"Susie"

"S-U-Z-I ?" I spelled.

"Yeah.... how did you know?" He gave a resigned smile. Why did he date these bimbos? He didn't know himself.

At supper, I was perfectly gracious. Really. Why do you doubt me? I greeted her at the door, and suffered her inspection in silence. I did my own inspection as well, just to see if she was up to specs: Five seven. Thin, thin, thin, with big stiff hair. Big stiff boobs, too. Perfect clothes. I'll bet she has a whole Malibu Playhouse full of perfect clothes. I led her to the living room and left her alone with Dad.

Supper was a tiring experience. This woman watched every bite I put in my mouth, keeping a running calorie count. She chattered away about nothing in particular, taking inventory of the dining room and trying to estimate Dad's net worth.

"Is everyone done with dessert?" the cook said, clearing dishes away. "Why, you haven't touched yours!" she chided Barbi... I mean Suzi. For supper she had unsweetened tea, two kernels of corn, and a sprig of parsley.

"Could I have another?" I asked.

"Certainly," the cook answered. Suzi scowled, but Dad didn't notice.

"Go ahead, it's really good!" I enthused. If she would only taste it, she might like it.

"No, thank you." She gave a hard, tight lipped smile. "I'm afraid if I ate like you, it wouldn't be too long until I started to...."

This time Dad noticed, and the temperature dropped like fifty degrees. "Before we go, let me check in with the plant." He picked up the phone. "Bad news... I have to go check on something. I'll have to ask you for a rain check for tonight. Can I drop you off?"

"No, thanks.... I'll call a cab." That's a good thing about Barbis; they know when to cut their losses and move on.

Ten minutes later she was gone, and Dad was conspicuously not going to the plant.

"Sorry Dad. I really was trying to be nice."

"You were. Not your fault.... this time." He went into his studio, and I heard his guitar again; sad stuff this time, the songs he played when he was thinking of Mom. She passed away when I was little.

I can barely remember Mom, but I missed her too. In my memory, she's the most beautiful woman in the world. In old pictures, she's nothing special, but I remember she was warm and funny. And soft. I thought about going to bed, but then I just sat in the living room and listened to Dad play in the next room.

The next day, all this fat stuff was back in my head. Since I'm my father's girl, I get analytical about all sorts of things, especially when I'm all excited or confused. And since I was thinking of fat, just how big would 1200 pounds be? Let's see... four times the weight is twice the volume... and since I'm not getting taller that means twice as wide, twice as thick, twice as big around. A little more actually, since my head and feet won't grow, but lets keep it simple. Hips. I eyeballed the distance from navel to hip, then moved my hand out that much farther. Now the other side.. my hips should be about this wide. Jeez! I'm gonna fill up a whole sofa, or almost! How about my belly? Twice as thick, from front to back... it's going to be hanging off my knees when I sit down! I may not be able to reach the end! I listened to the way my thoughts were phrased, and realized I had made an unconscious decision: I was already thinking "its going to" and "I'm gonna", not "maybe I will..."

Okay, let's try gaining for a little while. Don't tell anyone, and just see what it's like. I raided the fridge downstairs... remember, I had already finished off all that ice cream and a whole bag of chips. Potato salad, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and a bag of cookies went back to the bedroom with me. I ate and ate, and dreamed about becoming huge.

The next day I started eating as much as I could. I cleaned out the fridge and all food in the cabinets. The next day, I asked Dad for money and stopped at the grocery on the way home. I got bags and bags of, well, junk, all snacks with lots of calories. Most of these I took straight to my room. I had a huge supper, then hid out in my room all evening, stuffing my fat face. Only surprise, I didn't really feel all that stuffed! I knew I had always been a big eater, in more ways than one, but honestly I amazed myself at how much I could hold.

I kept this up, day after day, for the next couple of weeks. I took to picking up two or three drive-thru burgers on the way home from school, and another couple to have later at home after supper, and I would pick up a half-dozen doughnuts and leave them in the car to eat on the way to school. After my 'real' breakfast, of course.

All this food produced quick results. I put on over twenty pounds in two weeks, and all my clothes were getting tight. I was delighted; this was so easy! I was gaining like crazy, and I wasn't even stuffing myself that much. Well, I was, if you thought about how much food I was eating, but I hardly ever felt stuffed! What would happen when I quit trying to hide how much I was eating and let myself eat openly?

I had to tell my friends. If it was something this important to me, I had to share it with them. Brad, Roger, Angela and I had been together all through school, and we had all helped each other out.

When Roger's mom remarried, her new husband hated Roger, and his mom always took her husband's side; he started hanging out here, or at Brad's or Angela's... mostly here, because my dad was so easygoing.

Last spring when Angela thought she might be pregs, I was as anxious as she was. No, we didn't tell Roger or Brad, and it wasn't one of them... it was more "why did I even say hello to this guy, much less go to bed with him?" And her parents, and all the teachers, and most of the students think she's this perfect goody-goody total innocent... they would be shocked if she they knew she had ever looked at a boy. She smiles and plays along and lets them think they can see her halo, but underneath... underneath, there's something devious, almost twisted. For a while she talked about getting a pierced tongue, and how it excited her: She wanted to shock people. She went on on about how everyone would disapprove, how impractical it would be, what people would think about her.... it was like every reason not to do it made it more attractive.

And Brad... his dad was always the best at everything he ever did, and he let everyone know it, especially Brad. He's even the best at things he's never even thought of doing. Poor Brad will never live up to his Dad's expectations; no one could. He's sort of like Angela, except where she just conforms on the surface, Brad is really determined to be absolutely the best at everything, and he beats himself up when he falls short.

Tell my friends them face to face? Forget that... I just couldn't! Maybe a letter? I could plan what I had to say, use just the right words, explain why I had to do this. That would take too long, though.... Email! That was it!

It took me an hour to get my message just right. Not just that I wanted to eat everything in sight and get really fat, but why. How I wanted to do something outstanding, how I wanted to accomplish something no one else could do. How I seemed to have a natural gift for this, and how it made me feel. And I asked for their understanding, their encouragement, even, as I got larger, their help.

How would my friends react? What would they think of me? Would they laugh? What would Angela, with her perfect body; think of this? Then I thought about Brad. Suddenly I remembered how he never got hot over Angela, nor any of the other girls either... but he had always been my friend. Woo! What if Brad was a Fat Admirer? Wouldn't that be great!

I waited. I checked my mail. Nothing. Well, it's only been ten minutes! I went downstairs and watched a movie with Dad; it was one of those big sci-fi blockbusters; we picked holes in the plot and the science, counted the bodies and yelled suggestions to the cast. I even forgot about my message enough to let my stomach unknot.

With apprehension I checked my mail. There were a dozen messages, and three of them were from my special friends. I decided to save Brad for last. Angela. No, Roger first. Roger, I remembered, had shown a couple of times that he thought I was attractive... although that might apply to any girl who paid attention to him.

Dear Deb;
I got your letter. I think it sounds cool. If you want to do this, I'll be glad to help. Just let me know what you want me to do.

Roger

At least he didn't sign it 'Uh, Roger." Roger is a great guy, and he's not dumb. In fact, as far a school is concerned he does at least as well as me, but he's not exactly articulate. You know, they say the sexiest part of a person is their brain... sorry, Roger.

Deb;
Awesome! What a wicked idea! Talk about breaking all the rules! Social stigma, health, practicality... next to this, a pierced tongue is nothing! I've always loved how you let yourself get so fat, and never did anything about it, but this is a hundred times better! I love the idea of someone choosing to do this to herself! This sounds so HOT! It excites me just to think about!

I can't wait!

Angela

I had been worried about Angela. She had never said a word about my weight before, but I had always wondered how she felt, having a friend who was so fat, especially compared to her. Now I knew. It was interesting, though... I had never thought of Angela felling quite this way. I couldn't put it off any longer. I clicked on Brad's name.

My Dearest Deborah;
Number those who have been granted a dream become real, and to this number add one: my humble self. Each day I am tempted and taunted by your beauty, marveling at each voluptuous curve of your being. Not once in these many days, however, did I dare to think that your present beauty could be but the beginning!

Long have I know you to be a worthy person, keen of mind and possessing a noble spirit, yet for years it has been your ample form which has haunted my dreams. And now, to think this present form may be but the bud, soon to flower into beauty greater still; I burn, I ache, and it is you who inspires such emotions.

WOW! Brad! I could feel myself blush.

Long have I wished for your touch, for the softness which is yourself, yet my fear intervenes. Unsure how such attentions would be received, I have remained silent these months, though not by choice. I, who sometime fancy myself a fountain of words am rendered dumb, scarce able to speak my name. Indeed, this has even become the source of gentle humor amongst friends, yet I am certain you never suspected your proximity to be the cause. Now, though, I must speak, I must express the emotions which have lain silent though not still for so long. My first letter was written in the manner I am wont to use in your presence, but I now feel I must dare your scorn and express myself more fully. Now I must reveal the fire which burns within, else I be either consumed by flames of madness or become a cinder, never to glimmer again.
And so I write with this hope: may my words for once reflect the content of my heart,

Your dear friend;

Roger.

Roger?! "Uh, Roger?" Bewildered, I checked the From line in the message header. It was from Roger. Numbly I looked back at the message list. Sure enough, Roger had sent two messages. One was right below Brad's mail, and I had clicked on this one by mistake.

Roger wrote like that? And felt that way about me? I had never suspected! I mean, I knew he had good grades and all, and I knew he was my friend, but this? I've had other people tell me he was smart, but he always laughed it off. And I had the power to do this to him? My face felt warm, and other places too.

I just sat and thought for a few minutes, re-reading Roger's message a couple of times. It didn't change. Finally I remembered Brad's mail right below, but somehow it didn't seem to matter quite as much.

Deb;
How could you even think about doing this to yourself? And how could you imagine I, or anyone, would want to help?

I have always wondered why you never tried to lose weight before; I have never understood how anyone could let herself be so fat and not even try to do anything about it.

You are smart; can't you see how unattractive you have become, how out of shape? And it has become worse the last year or so; I remember you played softball as a freshman; today you would probably have trouble running the bases!

This is insanity! Instead you should be starting to diet, and exercise as best you can. Now THAT is something I will help you with.

PLEASE!

Brad

Okay, I guess he won't help, then. A few minutes ago I would have been crushed, but now it didn't bother me at all. I guess two out of three isn't bad, and certainly Angela and Roger sounded enthusiastic.

At school the next day I didn't see any of my friends until I met Roger and Angela for lunch. Roger was worse than ever, practically unable to complete a sentence. He looked so cute when he offered me a bag of cookies I resolved to eat every one just for him. We didn't talk about fattening me up where the other students could hear, but I invited them over to my house for a strategy meeting. We chatted about nothing while I ate my regular lunch, then the cookies. Roger just smiled, and Angela stared at me the whole time with this wild predatory look. Weird. I told Roger to come sit beside me, and at the end of lunch I told him 'Thank you' and squeezed his hand. When he walked away I swear his feet didn't touch the ground!

After school I stopped and picked up a load of Deb chow... bags and bags of the most fattening junk I could find. I looked at all that food filling up the trunk of my car and thought that every bit of that would soon be in my stomach! Wow! When I got home, I found Angela waiting.

"Hi!" She met me at the car. "I've been thinking about this."

"Great," I answered. "So have I. Here, help with these bags."

"Man, oh man!" she said, looking at what I bought. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

"You bet." I picked up a couple of bags and headed in, but she was busy looking at my groceries.

"Ice cream. Cakes, doughnuts, chips... all this stuff is super-high-calorie! I'm not going to be snacking along with you!" She patted the flat space where her tummy ought to be.

"Oh, go ahead." I teased.

"Nope... No time soon, anyway. But I can't wait compare my body with yours, especially as you start gaining. My waist is 23 inches... what's yours?"

"I'm not sure... more than double that." We put the ice cream and other frozen stuff up, then went out for another bag.

"And your legs... your leg has to be the size of my hips!"

"Hmmm" I considered. "Probably a little more?"

"We'll have to check," She enthused. Gee, she was really getting into this! I mean, of course I was excited about it; after all, it was my body! Was Angela bi? A fat admiring bisexual? I knew she went for guys too. The thought didn't bother me, but I was surprised.

"Yeah... we'll have to get a tape measure and check." I dumped my bags; we could move most of this stuff up to my room later.

"I brought one. Say.... you're out of breath, aren't you, just from carrying that stuff in from the car?"

"What? I guess so."

"You're breathing hard, just from that little bit of work! You are really out of shape, Deb."

"Well, it was two trips," I said defensively.

"Don't get upset; I love it! You're going to be so fat and so out of shape! I can't wait!"

"I guess so... If I get as big as I want, it'll be a struggle just to walk." I thought of some of the women on the Net. There's no telling what Angela would have said then, but Roger came in.

"Hi, Angela! Hi, uh, Deb." He smiled, like always, but this time it was more like 'I love seeing you' rather than 'I hope you don't mind me being here.'

"Hello, Roger." And I gave him a great big smile, to make sure he noticed.

We sat down at the kitchen table, they loaded up a plate for me, and we began to make plans.

"Okay, at school we make sure Deb has all the lunch she can hold... I'll run out to my car every day to pick up snacks."

"Okay" They were both taking this seriously, Angela more so than Roger... maybe even more than me.

"Roger can make sure you get a couple of candy bars during the ten minute break, right?"

"Uh, yeah." He smiled, hesitated, and actually reached over and patted my hand! I smiled back at him again and he grinned like a lunatic! Jeez, the thought of having that kind of effect on him was sort of neat. This was to be encouraged!

"Oh, yeah... usually you walk down to the end of the wing, down the stairs and back to get your books for Chemistry?:" I nodded. "From now on I'll bring you your stuff."

"I can do that... it's no problem"

"No; we want you to get as little exercise as possible. Oh, and you don't take the stairs up to get to English last period, either.. take the elevator." I frowned; the elevator is for handicapped students. Well, anyone can use it, but those are the only people who do, usually.

On the other hand, I really hate going up two flights of stairs. I looked down at my belly filling half my lap, and knew why. From now on I'll take the elevator!

Over the next few days, we fell into a schedule that kept me stuffed almost the entire day. Each day I got up, ate a big breakfast, then picked up Angela on the way to school; she would drive so I could eat. She brought something like a half dozen slices of toast, slathered with butter and jam, or else we would stop for doughnuts or something. At break I gobbled down three or four candy bars just to hold me until lunch. All three of us would bring stuff, so lunch was a big meal. In fact, lunch was a challenge; it was hard to eat fast enough to get really stuffed in that short time. I had to be stuffed, of course, because had to go three and a half hours with no food, all the way to the three o'clock bell. And yes, by then I would be hungry and my stomach would be growling. Roger even told me it sounded dangerous.... He didn't want anything that big growling at him!

There's a little alcove in one corner of the cafeteria; that always had been our place at lunch even before Brad quit speaking to us. Now we would go there, not really hidden but with a little privacy. I would eat as fast as I could swallow, trying to gulp down as much as possible before the bell rang. Who knows what the other students said behind my back... and who cares? I was doing exactly what I wanted!

It was amazing how quickly I adapted to this sort of eating. I guess my stomach stretched to hold more. I never dreamed anyone could eat so much, much less about doing it myself. After a few weeks I was starving if I didn't get enough; that is, if I had to eat like a normal person.

After school I would run out to my car and head home because I knew there was a stockpile of fattening treats waiting. Well, I didn't actually run... To tell the truth I never ran even before, and now Angela would kill me.

At home, I begin to really eat. I would stuff myself with junk even when I was alone, but most times either Roger or Angela came over to visit, just like before. Now they would encourage me, though in different ways.

Angela brought me food and told me I had to eat it, and if I stopped for even a moment she reminded me I needed to keep going. This bugged me a little, but I began to think of her as my coach. After all, I was going for the world's record, and I needed someone to keep me working toward my goal. Hey, I was in training. At first, Angela would join me and have like one cookie or a spoon full of ice cream, but then she gained a couple of pounds, though no one else could see where. She started running a couple of miles a day and wouldn't touch a bite of anything at my house, saying everything was too fattening. When I was stuffing myself, I would offer her things and tell her how good everything was, just to bug her... and I could tell it did, but she still wouldn't eat with me. The poor girl!

Speaking of running... I actually did try to run once; I was about 380 pounds or so, and hadn't ran a step for months. After this I knew not to try again. I was wearing shorts; my thighs slapped together and my belly bounced all around, throwing me off balance. After a few yards I had to stop anyway because my legs got tired, and by then I was gasping for breath and could barely breathe. Angela fussed at me, but she also wanted to hear all about it over and over again. She told me to never, never do it any more; I wasn't supposed to get any exercise if I could help it. Then she said if I ever DID try it again, she wanted to hear all the details..

Roger, on the other hand, never tried to make me eat more than I wanted, but he had this way of looking at me.... He would smile and make me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world, and I knew how much he loved seeing me eat, and how it made him so happy he could hardly stand it. I would get this warm feeling in my tummy, and a little lower down, too. When I felt like that, I just had to keep eating. Say I'm eating cookies. He looked deep into my eyes, touch my shoulder or maybe my hair, then watch my hand as it traveled from my mouth to the bag, then back. He would smile as I chewed and swallowed, then flick his eyes downward to my neck, breasts and belly, just like he was following the cookie on its path. I would eat the last cookie and he would smile, and it's like "Thank you" and "I love seeing you do this" and "I knew you could do it" and just a little "What next?" all rolled into one. And I couldn't let this end, so even though I've eaten too much already I would say "Could you get me a carton of ice cream please?"

"Of course, my darling Deborah." He's the only person who called me Deborah and not Deb, and I loved that too. And of course I had to eat all the ice cream, because he brought it to me. My motivation changed, too. Before, I kept thinking of the world's record; now, I thought about Roger.

Once I started eating like this, I blew up like a balloon. I guess I gained about fifty pounds in the first four months after Dad put the idea in my head. When I got to about 360, I was feeling pretty guilty about not talking with Dad. I promised to talk it over with him before I did anything, but then I immediately started stuffing myself. I kept telling myself these pounds weren't permanent; I could always lose them, at least in theory. Ha! It was an excuse, and I knew it. I should have told him fifty pounds ago.

At least Dad had never been anti-fat. As big as I am, he's has never said anything about my weight. Oh, he might joke about it, the same as I do about his bald spot, but that's all. Still, I knew he wouldn't go along with his daughter gaining a ton of weight. No, that's an exaggeration: just a little over half a ton should give me the record. He probably wouldn't scream at me or anything like that, but I knew I was headed for one of those 'Think about the situation. What is the smart thing for you to do?" talks.

I had a big problem, though; I didn't want to stop. I loveddoing this; it was the biggest kick I've ever had. I like eating all the time, I like sitting around and being lazy, and I love how soft and big I am getting. I like the idea of being special and different and unique. (Doesn't that sound a lot better than weird?) I like working toward a goal, and I like doing something no one can do as well as me! Oh, yeah... I have to admit I love the attention I am getting from Angela and especially Roger. Still, I had given my word.

"Dad? Remember when I said I was thinking of doing something?"

"Oh, yes, that mysterious thing you might or might not do. I've been waiting to hear about that."

"Uh, yeah. I've been meaning to talk to you about it. See, I've kind of decided. I have a... goal I want to reach."

"Somehow I don't think it's the Nobel prize? And you don't think I'll approve. If you did, you would have talked it over with me a lot sooner, right?. "

"Right." I took a deep breath. "I want to gain weight and become the heaviest woman in the world."

He looked me up and down, and I could tell he was taking a good look of all the new pounds I had added, really noticing for the first time. It was hard not to suck my stomach in, not that it would do any good. I bit my lip. "That explains why we needed more money for food. And new clothes."

"Yeah," I admitted. "I know I said I would talk to you about it... and I am. I guess I wanted to see what it was like first."

"Well better late than never, I suppose... Do I have to ask what you decided?"

"Dad, I've thought about it a lot. Really! I feel like.. like I have a special ability to do this. Of all the women in the world, I'm special; I have a better chance to reach the world record than almost anyone."

"You've really thought this through?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay... let me hear some of these reasons you were talking about"

"Well, I can eat more than just about anyone; you know that!" Actually, he had no idea how much I was eating now, and I wasn't going to tell him just then. "And I love all the most fattening food."

"That's not quite what I was asking about, Honey. This is a totally crazy idea. You know that."

I nodded glumly. I could see how this was going.

"Of course, people do totally crazy things all the time. Sky diving. Smoking. Dating women you know will never make them happy...." He paused to make sure I appreciated the irony of that one. "Drag racing. Rock climbing. What I want to know is why you think this might be possible for you but not anyone else."

"Oh. Heredity, for one thing. All four of my grandparents are still alive, and none of them has ever had heart trouble, or even high blood pressure. No diabetes in the family either." I glanced at Dad; he was listening like he might actually consider this. "And age. I'm only sixteen, and my body should be able to stand the strain better than someone older. And..."

"What else?"

"Well, I might be able to arrange for special care other people couldn't afford: special furniture, a bath, maybe a nurse, frequent checkups.... of course, a lot of that depends on you."

"So you don't just want permission... you want me to help, at least financially."

"Yes," I said meekly.

"What about education?"

"I'll finish high school... I'll be in the top three in my class, I promise."

"Oh, I know that. And after?"

"Online University. Math major. Maybe a minor in Philosophy." Online was great; you could get a real degree and never have to attend class. Tough, though; I had already earned a few credits, and it was actually harder than anywhere else.

"Online sounds good; it's not MIT, but better than a lot of other real world colleges." He shook his head. "I can't say I'm overjoyed with the whole plan...what if I say no?" I just sat there. Would I quit if he told me to? I didn't know? What was he going to do, watch me round the clock to make sure I didn't eat? It certainly wouldn't be as much fun, I knew. I just waited for him to speak; after a long time, he shrugged.

"In a year and a half you'll be off at school anyway, won't you? And you could do whatever you wanted. And then I wouldn't have any say in this at all. So here are the conditions:"

"Thank you, Dad!"

"Just wait. Complete physical exam this week: we'll find a doctor that won't give you hell about this, but not just some quack who'll say everything's fine either. Later on, exams every month, maybe even every week. Anything major comes up, I pull the plug. And you'll live here, so I see how you are doing every day. How does that sound?"

"Wonderful!"

"So you really want to do this?"

"Oh, yes... more than anything else!"

He smiled at me. "You know something? I've always wanted to go sky diving.. and I never really got up the nerve. I need to do that someday."

It was spring of my Junior year, and I was nearly 350 pounds. After school today I had changed into a low cut halter top. I had become quite proud of my fat, and I loved to show it off, but I had another reason for wearing that today. Yes, the weather was warm, but I expected things to heat up even more later.

By the time Roger and Angela arrived, I was already eating, with several partly empty packages on the table in front of me. "Hey, Roger, who are you taking to the Junior Prom?" His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Even seen a rabbit caught in your headlights?

"What? I was hoping we... I thought I would ask... You know..." Okay, he's still not quite as articulate as I would like, but I'm working on it.

I walked over to stand in front of him, grinning at his bewildered look. "If it isn't me, I'm going to have to smother you."

"Huh?" Before he could react I grabbed his head and pressed his face into my boobs, showing just how I planned to make good on my threat.

"Mmmph! Mmmmmph!" I let him up. "Had enough?"

He caught his breath, then said "No?" hopefully.

"Hmmm. Are you going to ask me to go or not?"

"Uh... do I get smothered if I say yes? Or no?" This is my own fault; I distracted the boy.... but it was fun! Fortunately he saw my frown and got serious. Meanwhile Angela is on the other side of the room, about to fall out of her chair laughing.

Roger fell to one knee before me, took my hand, and gazed into my eyes. "Deborah, I would be delighted if you would accompany me to the prom. Will you grant me this honor?" And then he kissed my hand! See, he's getting a lot better!

"That would be wonderful." He stood, and I pulled him close, kissing his cheek. Meanwhile my hands were busy elsewhere, and I whispered "Psst... here!" I slipped a condom in the back pocket of his jeans. "In case you get lucky."

He looked puzzled and extracted the small pack, then his eyes got wide and slowly a grin grew to fill his face from ear to ear.

I kissed him again, and behind his back I could see Angela give me a thumbs up. I'm so glad he asked me!

"Dad? You know next Friday is the Prom..."

"It is? I hadn't noticed the new dress, or the shoes, or the makeup..."

"Aw, Dad...."

"Or Roger following you around like a little lost puppy..."

"Ahem. Dad. We were wondering if after the prom some of us could spend the weekend at our place in the mountains. Just sort of.... relax... for a couple of days. Just me and some friends.... really quiet, nothing wild." Roger was a friend.... I hoped he wasn't going to ask who else?, because with what I had planned, who needs a whole noisy gang along to get in the way?

"Hmmm. You know, I suppose I haven't set a very good example for you, what with the Barbi's... yeah, you're right about them, I'll admit it. Sometimes I feel I should put my foot down and say 'Hell, no!'" He sighed. "But then I remember I was away all last weekend, and you were here by yourself...If you wanted to do anything, you certainly had all the opportunity you would needed. And ... I feel like I can trust you not to mess up too bad. Don't let me down on that, okay?"

"Oh, I won't.... thanks, Dad!" I gave him a hug. It wasn't like hugging Roger, but still nice in a way. He was even right, sort of... maybe I wasn't exactly planning on being a good girl... but I was sure going to be a careful girl!

Oh, yeah.... Angela came to ask if it was okay if she went to the prom with Brad... like she had to get my permission, or something. "Hey, as far as I am concerned, Brad is just fine. He hasn't said a word to me for months, but I can see how he feels. At least he was honest about it, and respected my decision."

"Good... 'cause I get the feeling three's would be a crowd, at least at that cabin this weekend." I caught myself about to say 'oh, no, come on, we don't mind at all... Instead, I grinned and said 'thanks!"

At the prom, I was easily the largest girl there, and just about the only really big girl who tried to dress sexy. I've heard girls a lot smaller than me say how they would just die before they would wear something short, or low-cut, or backless... whatever would people say? I only cared about two people: I wanted to feel beautiful and sexy myself and drive Roger mad with desire. I think I accomplished both. My dress was green. Short. Low cut. Backless. Tight. Almost too tight, but I loved it! I'll admit there was a moment of panic when I put it on and worried if I had outgrown it in the weeks since I had been measured... but if the stretchy material clung a little tighter, or the hem was an inch higher, that was all to the good.

We danced, and Roger held me close on all the slow dances and that was heaven. After a couple of fast dances, we sat out; yes, I was a tiny bit winded, but I was afraid I might bounce out of my dress, too! Beside, that, it was just too dangerous dancing anywhere near Roger.

After the dance, we started the hour and a half drive to the mountains, stopping for supper. I had a huge meal, but then don't I always? Roger didn't know it, but this was just to tide me over for the next couple of hours. A week before, I had stocked out little vacation house with enough food for two weeks, even by my standards, and I was planning on a fantastic late night feast tonight!

When we got there I was so excited I fumbled with the key; it was frustrating, but funny, too. Once we were inside, I just stood in the center of the living room, waiting. In a moment Roger took the hint and embraced me, squeezing me tight. Slowly he peeled off my dress while I undressed him as well. Why do tuxedos have so many pieces, anyway? Roger stepped back, smiling at me, and I could tell he loved the way I looked. I mean, with him there in just his shorts, I could see... it was kind of obvious, if you understand.

I know my body had been sort of the center of his attention for a few months now. Roger had done his share of snuggling and petting, but he had never seen me like this; a bathing suit yes, but not naked... and I could say the same about him. Yes, we were slow, but it was time to make up for that tonight. I turned slowly, giving him a good look from every angle, then he surged forward and I was in his arms again.

"Deborah, you're beautiful!" We stood there, my soft, soft body molded to fit him perfectly, then I led him to the bedroom.

* I have to confess: if I were a better writer, these footnotes wouldn't be needed; the story itself would be clear and easy to understand, and would make my points far more effectively than these notes. Still, I have had a couple of people mention points that convince me I didn't get my meaning across completely. Rather than rewriting the story, I'm just tacking these footnotes on the end.

* Why are Deb and her friends so young? The first thing I wrote was the monologue at the top of the story. I wanted Deb to be smart, confident, aggressive, and just a bit naive. When I went back and read what I had done, it just sounded like a high school girl, so I went from there. If this bothers you, pretend she's in college, not high school; it isn't that important to the story.

Actually, Deb is my vision of the type of girl I wish I had met in high school; I was almost too shy to even speak to a girl; I really needed someone like Deb to come along and take charge! That's not what I would look for now, but at the time it would have been wonderful!

*In case you haven't figured it out, Roger is ME; the way I saw myself in high school. I wish I had known a girl like Deb then....

*Dad isn't just a character, he's an archetype. (I've been carrying that word around for years and finally got a chance to use it!) I've heard dozens of people say their parents gave them a hard time about their weight. Here's a really cool Dad who can see his bright, mature daughter is capable of making decisions on her own, and he respects her enough to support her, even though he may not personally agree.

Is Dad realistic? Just let me say I don't think I will be this permissive with MY daughters! But I hope when they are teens I can treat them like young adults rather than as children.