The Big Diners' Club: Jack

Jack and the Big Diners' Club
(Inspired by an original BBW/FA story by Wilson Barbers. Here, the genders are reversed)

The town ahead was unfamiliar to Jack - just another small town on a minor county highway - but he was glad to see the town limits sign when it loomed up. He was starving, and the 'shortcut' he was on clearly ... wasn't.

Jack had spent his morning with two new clients who'd just set up a business, an autobody repair shop that would be marginal at best, and he was feeling frustrated and hungry. It was Jack's job to somehow impart to such beginning entrepreneurs the basics of running a business, including bookkeeping - the county development authority paid him to hand out his expertise. This morning's clients, though, had so actively resisted his advice that he had decided they were bozo entrepreneurs, not beginning entrepreneurs. This kind of rejection was getting too frequent, and he was beginning to wonder if it was time to move on to a greener pasture - if these guys wanted to fail, Jack was starting to think, then let them fail. There HAD to be a better way to use his business degree, he thought more and more frequently as he drove the back roads of the county.

He drove through the town slowly, looking for a restaurant, a fast food place, anything. Scanning the main street on his second pass, he suddenly saw a place he'd not noticed the first time: it seemed only to be 'a hole-in-the-wall', slotted between an Ace Hardware and a bedraggled five-and-dime store, but the door bore the inscription "Big Diners' Club." An odd choice for a name, the young business counselor thought, as he got out of his old Chrysler and straightened his dark tie. Glancing at himself in the hardware store's window as he passed, he smiled and ran his fingers through his blond brushcut. Broad shouldered but lean and firmly, but lightly muscled, most people would never have taken Jack for a 'Big Eater'. In reality, Jack had a generous appetite, and he loved not only to dine, but cook as well. His appetite ran in the family - his father and brothers ate generously too. But, unlike most of his family, Jack was blessed with a metabolism that burned off calories with abandon. Whereas his brothers were all heavier, heavy enough to be football linemen in their college days, Jack had never grown that big. Instead, his generous appetite fuelled a leanly muscled, speedy frame that his natural athleticism had turned into college soccer stardom.

Jack strode to the club's entrance, a wide glossy green door with the name stenciled on the glass at eye level. As he got closer, it seemed amazing that he'd been able to read the club's name from his car: the lettering looked more faded the closer he got to it. Must've hit the light just right, he thought.

The main dining room opened up after an entrance down a hallway - no wonder there was just a doorfront between two shops! But, the room was still clearly tucked in - it was long, narrow, and simply decorated, two rows of tables alternating sides of a generous passage towards the kitchen at the rear.

The bulk of the tables were filled with lunching couples, and in a flash Jack saw that the lettering on the door had not been a misnomer: everyone lunching was Big, a collection of variously dressed fat folk, all seated with generous platefuls in front them, and from their rapt attention to the food, they were united in their appreciation of the restaurant's fare. It made for quite a reassuring sight - if folks are enjoying their food that intensely, it must be good, Jack thought. As he stepped out of the entrance hall into the dining room, a waiter appeared at his side.

No regular waiter though - the man was built to the same scale as the customers. Roundly packed into his uniform, he had the appearance of a linebacker-gone-to-fat-and-then-some. His black satin jacket strained to cover a set of massive shoulders and arms, and had no hope of meeting across a broad, curved belly, neatly clothed in a generous but well-fitting shirt. Jack had roomed for a year in college with a friend of one of his older brothers, a big, but fit and strong, 275 pound linebacker, and Jack had wondered sometimes what it would be like to be his roommate’s size and build - imagining himself strong and athletic, but more than a hundred pounds heavier. Now, Jack was being greeted by a waiter who was far bigger than that - a man who, Jack imagined, looked like what his old roommate Roddy would look like now - IF Roddy had packed on an extra 150 pounds since college, as former linemen sometimes did! This waiter was BIG, yet moved with an athlete's easy grace.

"Do you want a table?" the burly waiter asked, an assessing look in his eyes.

Jack nodded in agreement, momentarily distracted by the sudden conviction that this hefty male had caught his flash of curiosity. A warm smile beamed above a discreet name-tag - Marc. The name-tage was hard to miss, perched as it was on the waiter's jacket lapel just where the fabric sloped over an heavily bulging pec. Marc led Jack to a vacant table close to the kitchen entrance. Nearby, a huge thirtyish couple was devouring their meal and watching each other sexily; the sight was so openly erotic that Jack had to shift his seat. He wound up facing a wall-mounted TV that was broadcasting a cooking show.

"The special for today is roast lamb with chef's special glaze," Marc the waiter was saying, placing a glass of milk before him. Though he hadn't asked for it, Jack took a good gulp, anyway.

"Do you have a menu?"

"This is your first time here, isn't it?" the well-padded server said, not answering his question. "Not many people are able to find our little club, but if you do, you were plainly meant to."

"Pardon?"

"We only one item for lunch, the daily special," Marc said with a smile. "Don't worry. The servings are substantial. You'll enjoy it," he added, then rolled his own substantial mass into the kitchen, leaving Jack with the television cooking show and the breathlessly gorging fat couple at the next table. Sipping his milk (which had a full, rich taste unlike any of the 2% supermarket stuff he was used to), he luxuriated in the smell of cooking. Any other time he'd have rebelled at having his freedom of choice so cavalierly dismissed, but from the look of all the other patrons, the special was a success.

He kicked back and crossed his lean, muscular legs, finishing off his glass only to find Marc magically by his side refilling it. Up on the plasma screen, the huge chef (he had to be well over four hundred pounds - he looked bigger than Marc the waiter!) was sampling a fresh salad dressing with a single fat finger, placing a dollop on his generous lips and dramatically licking it off.

"My sister-in-law produces that show," a warm, low female voice suddenly said from behind him. "In fact, my sister Bernice pretty much helped make Carl the star that he is." Before Jack could turn to face the speaker, she'd dropped into a chair across the table. "We haven't met yet," the newcomer said, "but I own this establishment."

She was dressed in a deep-cut blouse that aggressively showed off her generous cleavage, over a full, pleated tartan skirt. A dark-haired woman in her late twenties, she had a warm smile that was paralleled by a deep double chin-line. Her eyes were mischievous behind her round cheeks; she had the look of a woman who'd found her place in the world and embraced it. Though she was twice the size of any gal he'd previously dated, Jack found himself instantly attracted to her. He introduced himself, taking her hand when she extended it. She held her hand above his lightly, as if expecting him to kiss it, and then put it back down.

"I'm Chris Harring," she said. "I'm glad you found my place."

She turned and bid adieu to Bob and Ann, the couple nearby, then she returned to his table. "I hope I'm not being too intrusive," she said, "but I like to get acquainted with new faces that come my way, particularly when they're as handsome as yours."

Whoa, Jack thought. He looked into the face of the zaftig young woman and tried to think of a snappy rejoinder. "Are you always such a flirt with them?" he finally asked.

"Not usually," she answered, looking him straight in the eyes. He felt like he was being x-rayed.

Thankfully, his food arrived. Wheeling in a cart with a plateful of lamb and three separately dished side items, Marc proceeded to cover Jack's table with enough food to feed a family of four. "We can talk later. I'll leave you to your meal," the zaftig woman said, rising, then briefly putting a companionable hand on his shoulder. "I hope it's to your satisfaction."

It was. The lamb was cooked to perfection while the array of rich rice and vegetable dishes was so tantalizing that Jack found himself devouring the whole offering. He was sitting back, feeling sated but not uncomfortable, when Harring returned with a dessert tray. She parked herself across from him and waved her hands over the display of sweets between them.

"You simply have to try one of these," she said. Though he really wasn't a dessert person, Jack couldn't resist: he picked a substantial piece of Devil's Food cake. As he slowly savoured his dessert, the rotund restaurateuse asked him if he traveled, then regaled him with a story about a trip she'd made to Europe to find a specific recipe. Intrigued, he asked her about her trip, and that led to a series of stories about her quests through Europe for new and different dishes. He was both enchanted and, to his surprise, aroused.

When he'd finished his desserts (Jack realised to his surprise he'd put away four of them, plus an enormous cappucino), his host produced a large notecard. "I'm being pushy again," she said, "but I hope you'll consider becoming a member of our little club."

Of course Jack signed up: the fee was nominal and the meals reasonably priced. Besides, he definitely enjoyed the company. He changed his client schedule so that he passed by the Club at least twice a week at lunchtime. Although he’d always a good eater, Jack found his appetite much stronger when he visited the Club - he ate far more at that first lunch, and the subsequent ones, then he’d ever eaten at a single meal before - even in his college days. Slowly, over the first week, the effect seemed to spread - soon he found he was eating twice as much at home as he had in his pre-Club days., too

On weekends, he drove out to the Club for dinner - and spent his weekend evenings dining and talking with the club's attractive owner. She had a seemingly endless array of stories about the food she was serving; he listened in fascination, caught up in the romance of her gourmet exploits.

Jack’s expanding hunger manifested itself in many ways beyond the meals at the Club. Where he had hardly noticed the doughnuts beside the coffee machine at the County Development Agency, now he took one every time he passed. On evenings out, where before a drink with friends and a pub supper had sufficed, now he found himself wandering to buffets, or enjoying an evening meal with friends and then going through a fast-food drive through on the way home.

The effects of all this additional food rapidly began to show on Jack’s body too. Where before, he had seemingly been able to eat anything and it never showed, now every ounce of food he devoured seemed to manifest itself physically upon him - an effect surely tied to his dropping of his daily run after his first Club visit. Within two weeks, Jack had developed a noticeably bulging gut in place of his six-pack abs.

His growing midriff was soon complemented by added mass across his shoulders, chest, back, and thighs, though, as while he didn't run, he did visit the weight deck at his gym three days a week.

While most men would have been concerned at such a dramatic shift in their lives, Jack was oddly happy with his sudden growth. He felt great, and stronger than ever. This change in his life, and his body, seemed to suit him. As well as Chris, he soon got to know some of the other Club members, including Marc; new friendships blossomed. Jack's rapid growth put a strain on his clothes, though, and he did start to wonder how he was going to afford to replace all his shirts and pants - they were all too small!

Marc, well, the Club, came to the rescue. Three weeks after his first visit, Jack was sitting down to lunch in the Club, with his pants riding low under his brand-new potbelly, and his dress shirt gapping distressingly around his midriff. As he lent forward to cut the sirloin, he heard a slight rending at the seams of his shirt. Damn, he thought, this is my biggest shirt!

"Excuse me," Marc said, appearing at his side. "I couldn't help but notice - you've having a little trouble with your shirt."

A month before, he would have been annoyed by a comment like that, but now he acknowledge it. Fingering the gap across his growing waistline while finishing a mouthful of twice-baked potatoes, Jack looked up at the portly waiter and nodded.

"My shirts all seem to be shrinking," he said with a grin once he’d swallowed. "Ever since I discovered this place, I've been packing it on. You serve such sinfully good food."

"We've got something in the back that might fit you," the waiter said, whose uniform seemed to fit him better than it had the week before. "We've had other club members with a similar problem. Let me show you." He lead Jack past the kitchen to a well-lit room in the rear; hanging in rows were women's and men's clothing arranged by size. The smallest pieces looked to be about Jack’s current size, the largest...well, before he could rubberneck the more enormous items too much, Marc steered Jack towards a different rack. Jack picked up a couple of pieces experimentally.

"This is amazing," Jack said, fingering a rich cotton dress shirt in french blue that would go well with his tie. "I've never seen anything like this before."

"Well, the Big Diners' Club isn’t just about food," Marc said, smiling approvingly as Jack put on the shirt, which fit well but generously. "We're more than just a restaurant; we're a way of life." He pulled down a pair of navy wool dress pants that looked custom made for Jack's thickening waist and hips. "What you see here is a series of high quality hand-me-downs from members who've said goodbye to these sizes," he explained. "You're not the first Big Diner to come in on a limited budget. What are those, 32s? Here’s a set of 36s - they should fit you fine."

Jack quickly corrected Marc’s enthusiastic overestimate of his old waistline. “These are 29s, actually,” Jack finally said to Marc as he put on the 36s.

“29s? Former skinny guy! Well, no one here is going to be needing anything that small,” Marc remarked, taking Jack’s old pants and dropping them into a box marked ‘Goodwill”

The 36s were a comfortable fit - but Jack figured that was a good thing. Once he had put on a regular size 42 jacket to go with the larger shirt and pants, Jack stepped over to the room’s generous three-way mirror to examine his new self. He liked what he was seeing - his formerly skinny frame had filled out into a well-fed macho form - a growing belly and a heavy chest filled the new shirt. Thickening thighs and a well-rounded butt did the same for the larger pants. Jack admired the way his newly thickened arms filled the jacket’s sleeves, too, and he noted with curiosity that his face was losing the laugh lines he'd been noticing around his eyes just a month ago. . . he was looking and feeling like a totally different Jack these days. In fact, he was suddenly looking a lot like his older brothers. Squaring his newly meaty shoulders, he swaggered back into the dining room to polish off his meal.

"Thanks, Marc," he said when the waiter passed by next. "You and Chris really make me feel comfortable here."

"Looks to me like you have a thing for Chris," the heavyset waiter whispered, leaning conspiratorially over the table. He'd brought a shopping bag full of additional clothing and plopped it on the seat beside Jack.

"She's not yours, is she?" Jack asked, looking up from his plate.

"Oh, no! You haven't met my gal yet," Marc hastily assured him. "She's a club regular, too. So don't worry: you're not treading on anyone's turf. If you ask me, you look like just the kind of man that Chris has been waiting for."

The comfort of the new suit, combined with Marc's encouragement, was so galvanizing that Jack felt his sizable hunger come back with a vengeance. For the first time since that first visit, he made a major dent in the dessert tray. A beaming Chris watching him tuck into the sweet goodies with relish. Jack hadn't noticed it before, but now he realised that she was really intent on watching him eat: and her attentions made him want to consume even more. He began to make his meals longer and larger, just to have more time with her at his table.

Two weeks and three wardrobe upgrades later, Chris asked him a curious question over a postprandial cappuccino. Wiping a dash of whipped cream off her cheek, she looked the fattening Jack in the eye and asked, "Do you believe in magic?"

"What do you mean?

"My sister - and I know I've mentioned her - considers herself a student of the subject," she responded. "I've known other women who called themselves witches. I was just wondering if you've ever had any experiences in this area."

"Only college Ouija board games," Jack commented. "If that's what you mean by magic, no."

"You have no sense that there's something 'supernatural' out there?"

"I don't know what I believe when it comes to the supernatural - I've no experience. I guess I'm a pretty 'if I can't touch it, I don't believe it' kind of guy."

"Well, I believe there are forces in the planet," Chris continued, "and that we can get in touch with them through heightening our senses, by training ourselves to more fully experience sensual pleasures."

"Like good food?"

"Like good food," she agreed, then shifted the conversation to a critique of one of the recipes Carl was demonstrating on the tube. Chris had all of Carl’s shows on tape and played them for the edification of club members; today’s tape was apparently from a more recent TV season as the massive chef looked at least a hundred pounds bigger than he'd been on some earlier shows. Despite the increase in his girth, Carl moved his quarter-ton-plus weight confidently through the TV studio kitchen set.

"I'd like to have you meet Carl one of these days," Chris remarked to Jack, as they relaxed over coffee and strudel after a Saturday evening feast of baked salmon, lasagna, Caesar salad and garlic bread.

“I’d like that,” replied Jack. “I might pick up a few cooking tips!”

**********

Like the first month, the next few few months of Club membership passed rapidly for Jack: as he visited the Club more and more regularly for meals, and his chats with Chris grew longer, it seemed to him that the restaurateuse was spending all her time with him whenever he was there. Other Club members noted Chris’ interest in Jack, and Jack’s rapidly expanding physique, and they started introducing themselves to him. For his part, Jack reciprocated Chris’ attentions by actively appreciating the food she served - both spoken appreciation, and through his escalating intake. As Jack's appetite expanded, the servings Chris provided - and Marc and the wait staff brought him - broadened in both size and number. But no matter how much they brought, Jack consumed it all.

By the end of his first month at the Club, Jack's newly developed gourmandizing habits had worked a systematic change in his physique, as he had packed on close to 50 pounds; his waistline had inflated by 10 inches (four wardrobe changes!) and he had to trade the size 38s for size 40s on that one month anniversary.

Within months, Jack would be packing on 50 pounds every two weeks!

Also about the end of his first month at the Club, Jack started feeling out of place in his gym - even on the weight deck among the 'hefties', his 50 pound gain had not gone unnoticed. He was debating dropping his membership out of 'discomfort', when one of the other Club members, Tony, came to his rescue. The two arrived at the same time and parked side by side, and Tony noticed the gym bag on Jack’s front seat. As they went inside, Tony asked Jack if he were a 'gym rat'. The two shared a table as they discussed lifting, and as they tucked in to that day's Club lunch (enormous servings of a magnificent seafood alfredo), Tony asked if Jack would prefer a more “weight-friendly” gym. When Jack answered in the affirmative, Tony invited Jack to come to his powerlifting gym.

Jack made a trial visit with Tony later that day and loved the place - not a hardbody in sight (well, discounting the lone heavyweight bodybuilder) and all the equipment, lockers and showers were clearly intended for bigger guys - and gals. And the new gym had more 'weight friendly' social activities also - a wine and cheese hour caught his eye - as did a volleyball tournament limited to guys 'over' 300 pounds. ‘I’m not that size yet!’ Jack thought at the time.

A month later, he would be.

Jack's rapid growth was even more surprising because he'd always been a “hard gainer”, one of those who found it difficult to add more muscle to his lean frame. That's why he had been the 'runt' of his family, not in height, but in girth; where his older brothers were football linebackers, he was a soccer star. But, now, it was as if he was channeling his oldest, biggest brother, as his arms and thighs and back and chest were covered in more and more muscle. He regularly added more weight to his workout numbers - often increasing the load with every visit to the gym. Such powerlifter habits were not out of place among his new, heavyweight 'gym rat' friends from the Club - but they were a 180 from the 'old' Jack.

The combination of his new powerlifting growth habits, and his burgeoning appetite meant that as his second month of Club membership progressed a race developed between the swelling muscles of Jack’s arms and legs and the thickening layer of fat that increasingly covered them. The fat won out in the end, of course, but the fat Jack was also a strong and powerful Jack. As well as the enormous growth in his muscles, Jack got the distinct impression that his entire body - chest, hips, legs, shoulders - was thickening and widening too, as if to accommodate his growth, muscle AND fat, as he accumulated more and more mass. Doorways seemed narrower, his car more containing. And he remained amazingly mobile, even nimble, as his weight climbed.

And his weight did climb.

As his body grew, adding masses of fat in new bulges and folds, above burgeoning layers of fresh muscle, Jack found he was growing more sensitive - to his body’s changes, to touch, and to his sense of taste, of smell, even of touch. Food smelt and tasted far more interesting, even intriguing, than he had ever noticed before.

While part of his mind knew that his, well, inflating body was unusual, he was generally unperturbed by his rapid growth - indeed, after the first month he actively embraced it, looking forward to the larger meals, the frequent changes in wardrobe, and to his increasing strength in workouts in the new gym. If this were magic, he thought (remembering Chris' brief words on the subject), it was magic of a benign nature.

By the end of the second month Jack's appetite had grown so much that he was eating about four times as much per day as he had before joining the Club. Such a ramped-up intake brought even faster weight gains - pound after new pound appeared on his frame. By the end of his third month of Club membership, Jack’s weight would near 400 pounds.

In that third month, though, his eldest brother rang him up out of the blue and invited him over. “We’ve just moved here from Alaska,” Mike explained on the phone, “and thought, since we’re living not too far from you now, we should have you over for supper.”

“Sure,” Jack replied. “I’d love to! How are Elise and the kids? Two, right? What have you bought? Is the move temporary or permanent?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” his older brother replied. “Elise and the kids are fine - there are four now, by the way. The move’s as permanent as anything in the company. As for the house - well, you’ll see it. How are you, anyway? Still the same skinny little weed?”

“Not anymore,” Jack replied. “I’ve met a new girl, and she’s helped me put on some weight. Well, quite a lot of weight.”

“At last!” Mike joked. “Here we thought you’d be a beanpole all your life. Well, come over on Tuesday.”

When Jack arrived at the address Mike had given him on Tuesday, he was impressed to see a palatial spreading split-level ranch house, with a mini-van and a half-ton in the yard. He parked and walked up to the door, feeling confident yet apprehensive of his reception, as his newly acquired set of size 56 Levi’s and a XXXL polo shirt were a far cry from what he'd been wearing the last time Mike saw him. He knocked and Mike opened the door. Both their jaws dropped at the sight of the other.

“Mike!” Jack exclaimed just as Mike questioned, “Jack!?!”

Jack recovered first - after all, he’d always thought of Mike as big, just not this big. “Boy, Alaska and married life have been good to you. You’ve gone FAT!”

“Not half as good as your new girl seems to be for you!” retorted Mike. “What the hell happened to 'skinny' Jack? You’ve blimped.”

“I could say the same!” replied Jack with a grin, reaching out and bouncing a meaty fist off his brother’s bulging gut. “That’s quite a spread you’re hauling. Guess this means I’m still the little guy.”

“Yup!” replied Mike proudly. “You may have gotten big, but I’m still bigger! Alaska was good to me,” he adds, then goes on, “but then I had to put on weight, to keep up with my own family. You should see Dave.”

“Dave? The little guy? He’s what, now, 14?”

"It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? No, Dave is 17 now - hard to believe we’ve been eight years in Alaska - and he 's up to 450 pounds.”

“What?“

“Yup! Fattest guy in his high school - probably in any high school in the state. God, if I’d been that big at his age...." A dreamy look passed across Mike's face for a moment. Then Mike refocused on Jack. "Now, tell me all about this gal who’s helped my skinny little brother grow into a man of more 'global' proportions. How big are you now, anyway?”

“350,” replied Jack. “Twice what I was the last time I saw you! How big are you now?”

“Wow, just wow, Jack's gone fat,” joked Mike, “And me?" Mike bounced a big hand off his corpulent midriff. "I’m up about a hundred since the last time we lived down south. 420, give or take, the last time I checked - but I don’t check too often, it’s hard to find scales to weigh me.”

“420! How'd that happen?” said Jack. “I thought that pipeline job hired you for your strength? Didn’t you figure the hard work would keep you 'solid'? Some 'hard' work, if you can pack on a hundred pounds in four years. Don’t try to tell me that gut is all muscle!” Jack went on, as he followed Mike through the generous front doors of his house.

“Well, I got up there, and they promptly automated the repair process,” replied Mike. “Suddenly I was driving a robot instead of working out in the cold. Seems the other guys had been pushing for this - and no wonder, half of them were bigger than me to begin with! And we all put on weight after that! Not that Elise minds....” he added, slapping his gut this time, “I think she likes it! But tell me about this girl who’s fattening you up. What is she, some sort of witch? I never thought I’d see you fat.”

“Well, you might say that,” Jack replied, “or maybe the family fat gene just kicked in. Anyway, she runs a restaurant - you should come out sometime, you’d like it, it’s all-you-can-eat.”

“Is she up for the challenge?” replied Mike with a grin. “All I can eat is a LOT!”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure of it!” replied Jack, kicking off his shoes. The sudden arrival of Mike’s four kids - “Uncle Jack!” - put an end to their discussion, though Jack did notice Elise eying him and Mike with apparent approval as they tucked into thirds and fourths of her excellent seafood alfredo. And Dave did appear to be bigger than Mike - certainly fatter, though it was hard to tell past the dark clothes he wore. Dave’s appearance was of a bulging mobile black tent, rather than the hefty muscularity his father had sported at that age, let alone Jack's former teenage leanness.

Hours later, Mike saw Jack to the door. "Now that we're back down south, we need to get together more often," Mike remarked. Their visit had mostly been one long feed, with pauses, then a variety of desserts over coffee in the expansive living room of the split level. Like Jack, Mike's appetite for sweets seemed to have expanded - though neither of them were a patch on Dave, who simply hoovered baked goods.

While Dave and his family were happy to see that Jack was 'finally' growing, his bosses and co-workers at the County Development Agency were ... rather concerned. Jack's rapid growth had not gone unnoticed by his bosses, and his progress from lean soccer-playing beanpole to football lineman and beyond was the talk of the office. But nothing was said directly to Jack - his expanding girth didn't seem to slow down his work at all. Quite the opposite, in fact - he radiated such happy confidence that he got more done each week than before, and his growing size and strength lent him such self-assurance that no one felt they could criticize him - at least, not openly.

Several of ‘the guys’ did rib him a few times about his growing gut, about his doughnut consumption and about how he’d vanished from the noon-time jogging club. One day when the razing was particularly acute, and he was in shirt sleeves in a particularly tight shirt, he just casually flexed his shoulders until the shirt's seams creaked, which shut up his tormentor. His direct supervisor said not a word - she just quietly procured a wider, higher capacity office chair for Jack, in the same colours as his old one. Jack thanked her for it, and then rearranged his office to suit his growing girth.

His growing strength was one of his sources of confidence, and his new, heavier lifting companions at the new gym regularly congratulated Jack on his new personal bests; little mention was made of how his girth was growing too, perhaps because many of the lifters at his new gym were themselves members of the Big Diners’ Club. And of course, at the Club, Chris and Marc and the rest were quietly supportive - though there were the occasional compliments, particularly when he 'upsized' his clothes.

The relative peace at his work couldn't last forever, though, and that morning came about four months after he had joined the Club. Jack arrived at his desk to find that the lyrics of Weird Al’s parody song Fat taped to his desktop. At first he didn’t recognize it, but as he read it through, he started to smile, and by the end he was chuckling gently to himself. As if he’d made up his mind about something, he shut down his computer, told the receptionist he’d be out with a client the rest of the day, and though it wasn't one of his regular days for lunch at the Club, he squeezed his ample self into his car and drove directly there.

Jack was an hour early for lunch, and on the wrong day, but none of that mattered - he had something far more important than food on his mind. Clad in a colossal new, dark green 6XL sweater, vast white shirt and enormous grey flannel dress pants, Jack moved his more-than-king-sized form with majestic grace through the extra-wide doors into the Club. Inside, Marc was setting tables; he looked up and smiled in welcome at Jack.

"Well, didn’t expect to see you today - you’re early for lunch," Marc noted matter-of-factly.

"Is Chris in?" Jack asked. "I'd like to see her."

The waiter sized up Jack’s body language before answering. “She’s in the kitchen,” he replied, then led his chunky customer through the empty dining room. Just outside the kitchen door, Jack paused for a moment to collect himself.

"G'wan in," Marc said, misinterpreting his hesitation. "I'm sure Chris will want to see you."

He held the swinging door open and gestured Jack to enter the kitchen. Inside, Chris was directing a pair of pudgy youths as they chopped mushrooms and green onions; behind them on a series of cutting boards were several mountains of diced shrimp and ham. Jack slowly made his way to the centre of the great kitchen, taking in all the preparations and savouring the scents of Oysters Bienville in progress. Finally, Chris noticed him.

"Jack!" she said, a great smile lighting up her face. "What brings you here so early?" She strode over to his side.

He was so taken aback by the marvellous smells in the kitchen that he nearly forgot his original intention. He breathed deeply of the scent of seafood and began.

"Chris, I have a question to ask, an important question," Jack began, a little uncertainly.

"Yes?" she replied encouragingly.

Jack 'girded his loins' and plunged on. "Chris, I want to know - well, do we have a future together? I've been coming here for four months now, and while your marvellous food was the initial attraction - this place has changed me massively! - it's not longer just the food. Hell, it was never just the food, it's you. I’m very attracted to you. I came here today to say that I hope - I pray - that you’re as attracted to me as I am to you." He took a deep breath, and plowed on. "You are the most beautiful, wonderful woman I've ever met. I just want to know - do you value me for me, for more than just my humongous appetite?"

He paused, again, then continued.

"Do you love me?" he demanded, then grinned. "Or is it just my 'gut' appeal?"

Chris chuckled, then swept off her apron. "Are you kidding?" she answered, "Jack, I've been waiting months for this moment!"

Putting her plump right hand on his fat left, Chris pulled him along, through the kitchen to an elevator door. "My rooms are upstairs," she said in explanation, as she pushed the elevator button, "and it's time you saw them!"

In the elevator, once the doors closed, Chris pulled Jack into a deep, hard kiss. They lingered in the kiss for a moment after the elevator doors opened, then Chris tugged Jack's hand again and led him into her place. The elevator opened directly into a generous living room, with a kitchen to the left and a wide open door leading to a bedroom on the right. Pulling firmly on his hand, Chris led him into her bedroom.

Like the rest of the apartment, it was large, spare, but elegant - a mirrored ceiling, a bigger than California king-size bed.. but before Jack could take in more, Chris had pulled him into a hug, and she leant into his bulk for a second, deep kiss. Jack responded with passion, noting in passing that Chris tasted vaguely of garlic and onions: Jack thought it was the sexiest tasting kiss he'd ever had. His thick arms wrapped around her frame as he returned the kiss deeply and eagerly.

"I take it," he asked, once they'd both stopped for breath, "that this means you're ready to take things to a deeper level."

"The deepest level, the biggest level, the broadest level," Chris murmured in reply. She stood straighter, but her fingers traced the bulges of his broadened body. "You're the most handsome man that I've ever met."

“Handsome?” Jack queried, even as his hands glided over her in response.

“Massively, hugely handsome,” she affirmed, beginning to kiss his chin-lines, working her fingers down the front of his dress shirt. They glided down his now massive, bread-loaf manboobs, sinking into fat layer on top, finding the massive, well-marbled pectoral muscles underneath. Like the rest of his skin, the thick layer of fat over Jack's pecs had become extremely sensitive as he'd grown ever larger, and with the feel of Chris' fingertips through the material of the shirt, Chris felt his arousal rising, arousal that got only hotter aAs Chris' fingers continued to follow the furry trail down the thick padding where his ribs used to be, then moved outward along the top of his rotund, keg-like belly. Even the padding over his belly was now an erotic zone.

"I hope I'm not rushing things," the zaftig Chris said as her hand paused on his paunch, "but I can't wait to see you naked, to see the magnificent fat man that you've become."

As she stepped back, Jack smiled at her compliment. "You really want to see this?" he queried, and when she nodded, he reached down and in one smooth movement pulled up the mammoth sweater and discarded it. Next, his thick fingers moved onto his shirt buttons - one by one, they popped out, then as he tugged the shirt tails out of his belt line, he could feel cool air brushing his newly bare skin - it made his abundant fat flesh tingle. He pulled at the sleeves, then shrugged, and the dress shirt fell away behind him.

He moved on to his belt buckle, now beneath his overhanging belly fat, and Chris reached down to assist him with the pants button and zipper; the wool slacks fell away to the floor, and he stepped out of them. As he moved, he could feel his fleshy body bouncing gently around him, and he watched his new lover admiring his flamboyantly corpulent form. He wished that he could clearly communicate the magnificence he felt in his new, vastly obese form to her: the lavish feeling of exultant manhood that surrounded him all the time now. Every movement of his vast new body brought Jack joy; the feeling when he pressed his powerful, padded arms against his bulked-out torso; his sensitivity to how the fat padding on his powerful, thick pecs surged in waves whenever his arms moved; the warmth through his mammoth pecs whenever he lifted anything; how his massive thigh muscles flexed and his massive thighs rubbed against each other as he turned and moved; and how his vast, all-consuming belly felt as it bounced gently about him, spreading warmth and joy throughout his being. But he wasn't good with words to describe all these feelings, so instead Jack raised his arms and gathered Chris into a deep, enfolding hug, offering his vastly thickened and fattened body, his powerful, obese form to her. It seemed to be enough, as she returned the hug, squeezing as much of his mammoth form as she could gather in her arms.

Then, Chris backed up a step, and her hands started to work over Jack's naked magnificence as they had earlier stroked him clothed. Chris avidly, greedily, stroked and fondled each cleft and fold, exploring every acre of his naked corpulence. Kissing the mountainous rise of his belly, she gripped his great gut, then kneaded his hanging stomach appreciatively.

"You built this glorious bulk, Chris," Jack said meditatively, as Chris, kneeling, explored the overhang of his generous paunch with her hands and lips, the softly padded skin tingling in response to her touch. "You and your wonderful cooking."

"Oh, it's not just my cooking," Chris cooed, looking past his paunch and up into his eyes. "Plenty of folk have sampled my fare, and grown by it. But only you have responded so completely, so fully, to my offerings."

She was close to rousing him digitally. Jack sighed happily as he felt Chris - now his lover! - come closer to him, kissing his fattened knees and squeezing the back of a stout calf simultaneously. As she continued to work his lower half, he moaned and stroked her hair and ears. Chris turned her attention again to his massive gut, caressing its hang, then grabbing his overhang to gently lift his vast gut apron. As her hands moved it upward, the flesh of his overhanging paunch flowed out of her hands gelatinously; holding his stomach with just two hands seemed an impossibility. The inflated Jack was now too much man for any single pair of hands to hold or control.

Finally, they moved to the bed. As Jack fell back onto the mattress, he stretched out to receive her, his generous flesh bouncing and rippling as the mattress compressed and rebounded under his quarter ton of bulk. Quickly stripping off her kitchen outfit, the scent of her culinary labors lingering wonderfully, Chris towered over his enormous form. She lay down on top of him, and he looked at their reflection in the mirrored ceiling: as generously built as she was, he engulfed her, his greatly broadened body spread out to either side of her. Lifting his belly to free his member to slip inside her, he grinned lustily as she kneaded his ample avoirdupois. They both came quickly and heartily.

Before he’d even cooled down from their lovemaking, Jack’s hunger returned with a vengeance; his stomach growled; he was famished! As if she'd read his mind, Chris bounded out of bed and went to the door. On the other side, waiting for Jack, was a cart laden of cheeses and breads. His mouth watering at the sight and scent, Jack sat up in bed, and Chris rapidly wheeled the cart over to him.

"This is marvelous!" he said between bites. He'd never experienced sex so intensely before, but since he'd grown fat, he seemed more attuned to everything sensual. The magic of sensual experience, he thought.

"Will you marry me?" he asked Chris, after he’d plowed through an entire loaf of whole grain bread, a dozen huge kaiser rolls, and nearly a wheel of cheddar. As he waited for her answer he sank his teeth into yet another thick slice of rich cheese, now on fragrant olive bread.

Nodding happily, she gave her “yes” out loud - what other answer could there be?. Tugging the cart closer, she massaged Jack’s ample form as he gorged on the proffered feast. When Jack had emptied the cart of cheeses and breads, down to the last crumb, she suggested a quick clean-up.

“I have a great shower, built for two,” she said, “with lots of towels.” Jack, reading her intentions correctly, agreed. “But you go first,” she insisted - she wanted to watch Jack's awesome ass propel his prodigious poundage across the room.

The shower, when he turned the corner into the bathroom, temporarily threw Jack for a loop - it was enormous, far beyond what 'two' might need! But, as he walked through the glass entry door, and easily moved about the interior, he realised it was made for 'two' of his size - its interior was truly commodious. Furthering its mission as a shower for huge folks were the multiple shower heads - four on the ceiling, but more unusually multiple rows of shower jets on the walls, and even a couple on the floor. Jack noticed a series of control studs in a couple of panels, and he pushed a few experimentally. Different shower jets turned on - overhead, then below, then a pattern on the walls. He suddenly realised that if he turned, the wall jets would wash all the parts of his body easily - well, except for down below, but he pressed another control, and a powerful floor jet rose and began to cleanse the underside of his overhanging gut.

The shower’s walls were made of thick clear glass, and through them Jack could see Chris’ longing gaze as she entered the bathroom behind him. Happy to be in this place, he hammed it up for her, inhaling so as to further expand his gut, and bouncing his gut and his lovehandles against the shower's spray for her as she came across the bathroom. She stripped down and stepped into the shower.

“Did you have this built with me in mind? It feels a bit like a car wash, but for a big guy,” he ventured, gesturing to the shower jets covering the walls.

She replied eagerly. “Yes, that was the general idea! But wait ‘til you feel it in action. My sister helped me design it – do you like it? It makes a quick wash-up very easy - or a slow one, if you prefer. For now, though, I have to be quick - lunch is coming." She grabbed an item out of a hanging basket. "Just put on these goggles, touch the top control stud, then lift your arms and start to turn slowly around.”

Jack donned the swim goggles, his meaty arms stretching back over his head, then touched the indicated control. A swirling pattern of warm water erupted from the walls and covered Jack from head to toe. Chris slipped on goggles as well, then gestured to Jack to turn around, which he slowly did. She took a wash cloth and began to soap him up, as his gentle rotation continued. After a couple of minutes, she stood back, and watched the swirling pattern on his skin. She gestured again to Jack to have him pull up gently on his massive belly, and as he did she touched a second control stud. Several jets on the floor joined the wall-mounted ones, and Jack stepped over them, letting them clean his belly hang and his behind. He grinned at Chris, and she touched the top control stud.

“It IS a car wash for fat guys!” Jack remarked, grinning, as the water slowed and stopped. Chris stepped towards him and kissed him. Then she grabbed a towel from just outside the shower – a huge towel, metres long – and handed it to Jack, and grabbed a second one to use herself.

As Jack towelled off in the expansive bathroom, Chris helped him avidly. With his growing awareness of how his size and form delighted her, Jack decided to see if Chris' interest extended beyond the visual. He smiled and asked in a steady voice, “Since you have a bathroom so obviously designed for a big guy, do you maybe have a scale too? Or,” he added, more gently, as if being reluctant, “maybe there’s a shipping scale in the restaurant?”

Chris' face lit up. “Why, yes, I do have a good scale. Why do you ask?”

“Ever since I was a kid I’ve weighed myself every week,” replied Jack. “But I’ve 'run out' of scale, you might say. I was weighing myself at home, but my little old scale only goes up to 350 pounds - and I’m a bit beyond that now!”

“I’ll say!” interjected Chris.

“I know I’m still growing - either that, or my clothes keep shrinking,” Jack grinned, “and I’m curious about how big I am now.”

The warmth in Chris’s reply told Jack he’d been right about the breadth of her interest in big guys.

“Sure,” said Chris, smiling broadly, “I have a scale up here that should do - I'll just pull this rug aside. Maybe I won't need to cover it with a rug anymore.”

She moved a small rug that Jack had hardly noticed and revealed a gleaming steel surface, covered in non-slip tread, nearly four feet across. On the wall Jack suddenly noticed a small display on a shelf, in between some potted plants. Chris tapped a spot on the display, and it blinked twice, then shone out a steady “000" in large numerals.

“There you go,” she said, excitement obvious in her voice. Jack waddled over, hung the vast bath towel on a nearby hook, and stepped onto the platform.

“Hope I’m not too heavy for this one!” he remarked jokingly.

“Oh, you won’t be, I'm sure,” replied Chris.

The display blinked twice, slowly, then shone steadily. “519!” exclaimed Jack happily. Chris just beamed. “Wow,” Jack went on, mentally calculating, “that’s three times what I weighed when I first met you.”

“So you’re three times the man you used to be,” Chris noted with a grin.

“I guess that’s true,” Jack replied happily. Stepping off the scale, he grinned madly at Chris, then did a little dance, his vast gut and butt swaying and bounding around him. He reached out his huge arms to Chris and twirled her twice around the bathroom, coming to a bouncing halt beside the scale. Letting go of Chris, he picked up the enormous towel again. “I wonder,” he said mostly to himself, and he picked up the long towel to wrap it around his huge gut. “Great!” he exclaimed as he found the towel wrapped amply round his paunch. “I haven’t been able to do that in over a month - my towels at home are all too short.”

“I’ve adapted this apartment to suit a big guy,” Chris remarked simply, "because I knew that someday I'd meet the right one. Drop that towel now and we’ll get dressed - I have to get back to the restaurant. I have a lunch to get on - and I’m sure you must be hungry.” Jack’s ample gut chose that moment to rumble its agreement.

Chris helped Jack back into the dress shirt and slacks, and the two of them rode the elevator back down to the Club, just in time for them to sample the lunch items.

“Jack, you must try these,” Chris said, grabbing a plate and putting one of the roasted oyster appetizers on it. Jack dug in.

“Fabulous!” he exclaimed, as Chris passed him a large bowl filled with a rich, thick chowder. After a few spoonfuls, he simply tipped the bowl up to his mouth and chugged the rest.

“Also fabulous!” he declared. One of the cook’s assistants, who had cottoned on to what Chris was doing, passed her a salmon fillet on another plate. She proffered this to Jack, who speared several large pieces and filled his mouth with them. Chewing enthusiastically, he announced, “Marvelous!”

“This is our first all-seafood lunch. Well, go snag a seat, while I go to the front,” said Chris, pushing Jack gently in the direction of the main dining room. “Marc’ll look after you.”

Chris hurried to the front door to greet the first members arriving for lunch. Jack moved his vast form to a seat near the kitchen door, his great stomach gurgling audibly in anticipation of a good lunch.

Marc, noting a special glow on Jack’s and Chris’s faces, and hearing Jack’s stomach complaining, came to his own conclusions, and made sure to keep Jack’s table loaded with food. Observing how voraciously Jack dug into his lunch, and Chris’s glances of contentment at Jack’s binging, Marc kept the serving dishes on Jack’s table refilled regularly for a long time. As Jack’s gorging was finally slowing down, Marc wheeled an especially heavily laden dessert wagon, lovingly organized by Chris, up to Jack’s table.

“Chris says this is all for you!” remarked Marc. “Hope you have room for it all!”

His appetite suddenly raging again, Jack dug into the sweet stuff ravenously. After a few minutes, Chris appeared at his side with a tall jug of milk. Under her urging, Jack proceeded to demolish the entire wagon load of sweet delectables.

"You've come a long way from the man who didn't ‘do' dessert," said Chris as she smiled sweetly at him.

"And it's you who's brought me all this way," Jack replied after a pause for chewing, wiping an errant crumb of chocolate brownie off his cheek.

By mid-afternoon, Jack’s sex-heightened appetite was finally sated, and he and Chris returned, not to her rooms, but to the kitchen, where Chris began to instruct him in the practical aspects of restaurant food preparation. The next morning, he returned to the County Development Agency just long enough to give his notice and clean up his office. He hired an agent to sell his condo, and moved in with Chris.

Two weeks later and more than 80 pounds heavier - at 614 pounds, heavier than the famous TV chef Carl (whose weight had reached a new peak for the current season of his popular TV cooking show) - Jack was spending all his time with his new fiancée at the Club, learning her cooking secrets and applying his own business experience in a way that satisfied him far more than working for the County Development Agency ever had. With Chris’ grateful acquiescence, he took over the finances of the Club, and was able to almost immediately streamline her financial operations - and improve her bottom line.

Of course, working directly with Chris in the Big Diners’ Club - and living in the condo above - meant that Jack was now surrounded by her excellent food and her not-always-subtle encouragement not just for four or five meals a week, but 24 hours a day. His magically-enhanced appetite re-doubled; he found himself feeling permanently hungry, so that he began to snack regularly through the day, in between meals of growing length and size. He ate more than ever before, and rarely left the Club’s premises, except to go to the powerlifting gym, or in search of new clothes - one of the Club members had a spouse who specialised in larger custom sizes. As a result, with ever more food and encouragement to hand, and less daily physical activity, Jack's growth - accelerated!

As Jack had always been a guy for numbers, he used Chris's scale regularly, and plotted the results. He quickly had his growth curve memorised in the same way he'd used to memorise soccer stats: whereas in his first month of Club membership he’d gained 49 pounds, and in his fourth month he’d added 121 pounds to his body, in his fifth month, thanks to his "live-in" Club membership, he'd comfortably added 209 pounds to his burgeoning mass.

The end of that fifth month saw Jack happily settled into Chris’ upstairs condo, living and loving in a body which had been 'upgraded' by over a quarter of a ton. Even more impressively, both the size of Jack's appetite and his rate of gain would continue to accelerate as he began his sixth month in the Club. Of course, this was helped along by the conversion, sometime in the fifth month, of the “bedtime snacks” that Chris had started plying him with when he'd moved in into a full scale fourth daily meal - and the mid-afternoon “snack” kept threatening to do so.

Naturally, Jack took as many meals as possible in the Club dining room - where his comprehensive gorging (his daily food intake would have fed 15 ordinary men) began to inspire other Club members, especially the younger guys, to greater gluttony. Jack was unaware of this at first, until Marc reported to him and Chris that he had heard several younger members discussing how to “do a Jack” - by which they meant either greatly increasing their intake, or their weight, or both.

(Continued in Part II:
http://www2.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/892982)