Happily Ever After
by Supersize Woman
It was our first weekend living together, and I had big plans. At 6'1, 240lbs, he had always been chubby, but I wanted to see his belly grow bigger until it protruded far out and over the waistband of his pants. I knew I'd finally get my chance to fatten him up now that we were living together. That night I made his favorite dinner: the biggest steak I could find, mashed potatoes made with extra butter and whole milk, and cheesy garlic bread. When he finished his potatoes and bread, I served him some more without asking. He was busy chewing his steak and barely noticed I had put more food on his plate. He polished off the steak and bread, but left a good-sized mound of potatoes on the plate.
He leaned back from the table, put his hand on his belly and Said, “Man I'm so full. That was really good, babe.” I told him that he hadn't finished, but he said he couldn't take another bite. I picked up the fork, loaded it with potatoes and put it to his mouth. He hesitated, so I reminded him that we were celebrating living together. He smiled and opened his mouth. I fed him the rest of the potatoes, and then we headed over to the couch. He grunted a little bit when he sat down and put his hand on his swollen belly.
“I think I'm going to pop the button off my pants,” he said.
I reached under his belly and unbuttoned his pants for him. Then I started rubbing his now rounder gut.
“Is that better?” I said.
He grinned and said, “Yeah. I guess I made a big pig of myself tonight. I better watch out or I'll get even fatter.”
“That wouldn't be a bad thing,” I replied. “I like big men.”
“I'm already big. I don't want to get so huge that you're not attracted to me anymore.”
“That could never happen,” I assured him.
I continued to rub his belly while we watched TV. Then we started getting ready for bed. I started to undo the buttons on his shirt that were slightly straining at his still full stomach. He lay down on his back and said, “I can barely move I'm so full.”
“That's okay,” I said.
I straddled his legs and began kissing every inch of his swollen belly until I got up to his mouth. I made sure to not put too much of my weight on his bursting full stomach while we kissed passionately. Then I rolled over onto my back and pulled him with me. I told him to put all his weight on me. The pressure of his large belly pressing into mine excited me and we made love with me squeezing his love handles the whole time.
The next morning I woke up before him and started a big breakfast of pancakes, eggs, bacon and hash browns. He awoke to the sound of sizzling and came out in his boxers. I imagined him with the big belly I was going to build up on him. We sat down to eat, and I reveled in the yummy noises he was making. By the time he finished his plate, I had only half eaten mine. I told him to finish off my plate, so it wouldn't go to waste. When he was just about finished with my plate, I took his back to the kitchen and placed the two remaining pancakes and three strips of bacon that were left onto it.
“Here's the last little bit, sweetie.”
“Oh, I couldn't,” he protested.
“Sure you can. Don't let it go to waste; you know you can't really reheat breakfast food.”
“You're going to make a big porker out of me,” he said. “You'd better watch out or you'll end up with one of those fat husbands that never gets off the couch.”
I smiled at him and shoved a piece of bacon in his mouth. He dutifully finished his breakfast and we had a lazy TV watching day. I new I had already stretched his stomach to the max so rather then stuff him with another big meal we grazed on fatty snack foods the rest of the day.
The next day we watched Sunday football together. My favorite team was playing against his favorite team so he was in ultra-competitive mode. I told him I wanted pizza and challenged him to an eating contest.
“I bet I can eat more pizza than you can,” I bragged.
“No way, I can eat twice as much as you,” he protested.
“We'll see about that.”
I ordered three large cheese pizzas. When they arrived I laid all three of them out on the coffee table in front of us.
“I can eat a whole large. There's no way you can eat two!” I said.
“I bet I can. I am the pizza master,” he exclaimed.
We began shoving pizza in our mouths. It turned me on to watch him stuffing slice after slice in his face. I managed to eat 11 ½ of the 12 slices before flopping back on the couch with my abdomen stretched rock hard. I normally didn't eat like this, but I knew that at first he would need to feel like he wasn't eating alone if I wanted to be able to keep stuffing him. He finished his first pizza about the same time. He unbuttoned his pants to accommodate his swelling stomach which was very evident since he was not wearing a shirt. Once the button was undone his zipper flew open releasing a tidal wave of blubber. His belly fat jiggled for several more seconds before coming to rest in the shape of a basketball resting on his lap. I admired his fullness which by far overshadowed my own protruding gut.
“Keep going you've got a long way to go before you prove yourself. If you wait too long you won't be able to do it.”
He again began eating slice after slice. I was getting more and more excited as I watched him stuff himself eating another ten slices. He looked very proud of himself and declared victory.
“Not so fast” I said. “I ate 11½. Double that is 23 slices. You've only eaten 22. You don't want to wimp out when you're so close do you?”
“I'll do you one better. I'll eat the last two slices.”
He laboriously finished the last two slices as promised. He was so full he could barely sit up straight so he leaned back revealing a mountain of soft flesh that was more like 1½ basketballs now. I told him he might as well finish my half a slice and put it in his mouth. I rubbed his engorged stomach while he finished the pizza in three bites. I told him how proud of him I was and how sexy he looked when he was full. I kissed his belly which was framed by a taught waistband. I could tell the waist of his pants was stretched to maximum girth even though his fly was all the way open. I knew he wouldn't be able to button them again that day.
When we went to sleep that night I thought about our fabulous first weekend together. It was the first of many to come. I put my arm around him and imaged that I could no longer reach all the way around him.
As the days went by I cooked him a hearty meal every night and kept his favorite snacks on hand. Whenever he stopped and said he couldn't possible eat another bite, I always told him how sexy he was and shoved more food in his mouth until he was so full he couldn't move. After two weeks, while we were in the shower, I watched the water trickle over his round tummy and wondered how much weight he had gained. We got out, and I told him to get on the scale. The number 273 stared back at him and he giggled nervously. I pulled him in front of our full length mirror. He carried the added 33lbs wonderfully, with his gut sagging and sticking out in front of him. I told him how turned on I was.
“I can't wait to feel that belly pressing against me,” I said and I dragged him into the bedroom.
He commented about how good the sex was. I told him that it was because of his weight gain and that I wanted him to keep going. He agreed that he liked his every widening girth and told me he wanted to get a lot bigger. I told him I wanted him to gain another hundred pounds in the next month and that I would help him. I fed him almost constantly and made sure to fetch things for him so he got as little exercise as possible. He only got up to go to the bathroom and go to bed. I admired his waddle as we walked due to his very thick thighs. His hips and love handles spread at an amazing rate and his stomach began to drop over his thighs while still pushing further out in front of him. Every week, I brought him new clothes to keep up with his massive weight gain. By the end of the month, he had gained 117 pounds, bringing him to 390.
I grew more and more attracted to him every day. It was hard to leave him even to go to work. All day I pictured myself caressing and grabbing his belly, which was beginning to look very much like a perfect half circle when he lay down.
Three months later, we married in a ceremony in our back yard. He looked so handsome in his custom-made tux with his gut hanging half way down his thighs. He had hit 500lbs, and our honeymoon was a night filled with the best sex of our lives. I loved the way he had to lift his belly up to insert himself in me and then rest is gorgeously squishy flesh on top of me.
The rest of our days were filled with food and sex, often both at the same time. By our fifth anniversary, he reached his peak weight of 747lbs. On that day he looked at me, smiled and said, “Well, you ended up with a fat husband who spends all his time on the couch.”
“Just what I always wanted,” I replied and then rested my head on his massive belly.