Weight Room Title Bar

By Ned Fox

Sara and I had been married for a couple of years. She had a good job with a tele-marketing firm and I had my own business. We were what today are considered “dinks” - dual income, no kids. We were both in our mid-thirties; we had maintained our weight since marriage pretty well. Only a little gaining at the holidays, but that was it. Sara worked out at the gym/health club at her company's office building. She had a good appetite and always ate well. But she worked out hard to keep her figure. I didn't work out much, I ran in the mornings and that was it.

Things changed when Sara's company went out of business suddenly. The no-call lists killed them, most of their clients switched to direct mail or spamming on the Internet. Sara suddenly found herself with nothing to do. She looked for another job for a few weeks, but the industry as a whole had been hit hard.

I told her not to worry; my business was going strong and I was making good money. We decided that it would be a mistake for Sara to come work with me. I told her just stay home and enjoy life for a while. She was reluctant, but thought about being able to sleep in, go to the library when ever she wanted, take her time shopping, etc.

So Sara settled into a new life style. She slept in every morning, had a big breakfast, putted around the house, enjoyed a nice lunch and then started to figure out what to do for dinner. She was not however working out. We lived in a downtown condo, with no facilities. She did walk a bit to some stores but that was about it.

So of course, she began to gain weight. She didn't notice it at first; she was lounging around in t-shirts and panties or run an errand in sweats. We decided to go out to dinner one night, she started to pull on, what had been her favorite pair of pants and they didn't fit! She struggled to pull them up over her expanded bottom and then fasten the snap on the waistband around her new tummy bulge. She pulled on a sweater over the top of the pants to cover up the straining waist and tummy bulge. Her bottom now showed off wonderful panty lines through the stretched fabric. She was quite embarrassed and blushing from both the exertion of dressing and how plump she now looked.

She said, “Matt, I can't believe how fat I am now.”

I told her, “You look great honey, don't worry, I think you look just great.”

“Oh, Matt,” she cooed, “Thank you dear, I guess I have enjoyed myself a little to much lately,” patting her plump tummy and running her hand along her expanded bottom. I pinched her bottom and she giggled, “You really think I look great?”

“Yes, Honey, I really do.”

She looked me in the eye and said, “I have a confession to make; I really hated working out and exercise in general. I only did it to keep my figure for you. I was so afraid I would balloon like my mother and sisters that I worked so hard.”

It was my turn.

“Sara,” I said, looking her in the eye, “I love the way your mother and sisters look. I think they are all beautiful!”

“REALLY!” she shrieked.

I continued, “In fact I would not mind if you gained some more weight.”

She looked at me for a moment. “Matt, I would really enjoy not having to worry about my weight at all. I really love to eat, and I have never liked exercising, would it bother you if I just let myself go?”

I reached around her and sunk my fingers into her expanded bottom, and said, “I would love to see you let yourself go!”

She giggled, “Would you like to see me get a big pot belly like my sister, Sally's?” My answer came in a physical form rather than verbal. Sara shrieked with joy, “Dinner time, dear and I'm starving!!”

She practically raced me to the car. “Let's go to Angelo's,” she shrieked. “I can't wait to just order all I want!!” Angelo's was one of our favorite restaurants, but in the past Sara had to be careful not to overeat. Now that was not the case any more.

As soon as we were seated, Sara blurted out her order the startled waitress. I ordered an entree I knew was also one of Sara's favorites and a bottle of wine (for appetite purposes).

When our food arrived, Sara dug in like a woman possessed. She gorged herself with pasta, sauces, bread and sausage. About two thirds of the way through dinner she reached under her sweater and giggled. I asked, “What honey?”

She giggled, “The snap on my pants and the zipper just let go!” For dessert she ordered a huge piece of cheesecake smothered in chocolate sauce. I went to reach in for a taste with my fork and she pushed away my hand. “Sorry, dear, this is all mine,” she giggled.

When she was finally through, she belched a couple of times, looked up at my bleary eyed, “Can you help up? URP, I 'm so stuffed, I can't lean forward to stand up!” she said.

I helped her up. Several other dinners looked at us. Sara was not the least bit embarrassed at all. She had her hand under her sweater massaging her distended tummy.

I was loving every minute of it. Her pants split down the seam when I lowered her into the passenger seat, she giggled, “I always wanted to eat my way out of my clothes.” My knees nearly buckled with that comment.

I helped undress, peeling off what remained of her pants. Her tummy was very bloated, pushing down the waistband of bikini panties. I pulled off the sweater and her bra. I got out a t-shirt of mind and slipped over her head and carefully smoothed it out over tummy.

She giggled, patting her roundness, “You like this?”

“Oh yes”, I replied. I caressed her tummy until she fell asleep.

The next morning, I fixed her a massive breakfast of only the richest foods. She cooed with joy, propped up by pillows, the tray pushed up against her round, bloated tummy and she happily munched away.

After a wonderful weekend of pampering my wife, I headed off to work. Calling to check on her every so often, she answered the phone every time with her mouth full!

When I got home there were several boxes in the foyer and Sara was all warm and flushed. She had only a pair of black panties and a t-shirt hugging her abdomen.

She looked like she had been working out! I felt a sense of dread looking at her.

Breathless, she said, “Matt, help me with these darn boxes; they are so heavy!”

“What's in them, Honey?” I asked.

She looked at me scratching her tummy, “My clothes, except for panties, my bikini's and some bras.

“I don't plan on fitting in to them again, so I thought I would send them to the thrift store.” A wave of relief swept over me. “What's wrong honey?” she asked.

“I thought you had changed your mind about working out,” I answered sheepishly.

“Oh you're so silly,” she shrieked. “I'm never going back to that again,” she said with both hands on her bloated tummy, shaking it.

Over the next few weeks our grocery bills doubled and as did the amount we spent eating out. Sara, true to her family's genes, grew a wonderful, round tummy. She truly looked pregnant. Her bottom became a soft, round bubble butt. Her thigh were perfectly round and jiggled with her bottom as she now waddled around the house, usually with nothing more than a t-shirt and panties on. I, and especially Sara were in heaven. I had never seen her so happy; she seemed not to have a care in the world, other than to decide what to have to eat next!

She finally decided to weigh herself. She had not since before our wonderful confession weeks earlier. But she wanted to be able to answer the questioning looks she got from friend and acquaintances “ how much weight have you gained?” She now weighed 170 pounds. Before her company closed, she weighed 110 pounds, and we guess that she weighed 125 pounds when she started to gain deliberately.

Several neighbors in our condo building kept asking if we were going to move? Sara, would answer, “No, why do you ask.” They would respond, “Aren't you going to have a baby?”

Sara would giggle and answer, “No, I'm just getting fat.”

The best experience in her gaining was when we went to her parents for a long Thanksgiving weekend. Her mother shrieked with joy when she saw Sara waddle in with her now round plump, tummy sticking out in front of her. Her tummy stuck out further than her breasts! Sara was wearing her favorite outfit, black stretch pants and with a tight fitting knit top hugging her wonderful body.

After getting our things up to one of the bedrooms, Sara's mom and her sisters waddled in. They wanted to check out Sara. After politely asking me to leave. They queried Sara on her “condition” - was she pregnant, no; had she gained by accident, no; did she gain deliberately, YES! They all were giggling; they even had Sara strip down to her panties to admire her handy work!

That Thanksgiving was the best weekend I had ever spent. We ate, and ate and ate. I was in hog heaven watching Sara, her sisters and Mon virtually dueling with food. Even we sons-in-law and her dad were getting into it. The weekend seemed like a four-day gorge. There was food everywhere you looked. Her mom had even put candy dishes in the bedrooms and bathrooms! More than once no one could get up from the table we were all so stuffed!

On Sunday, after a massive lunch, it was time to drive home. I helped Sara into the car Carefully lowering her into the passenger's seat. I could not resist caressing her tummy. She giggled and poked my bloated gut, “Looks like someone 'grew' a little this T.G.”

“I couldn't help it,” I said defensively. Sara smiled pulled the waistband of her stretch pants down under her tummy to let it stick out un-impeded by the lycra. She rubbed a hand full of “ben-gay” on her tummy.

I asked, “What's that for?”

“Sally told me about it; she says it speeds digestion,” she giggled.

“Well, Sally ought to know,” I quipped. I un-buckled my belt and un-zipped my trousers, before getting into the car to drive home. I had gained a fair amount of weight over the weekend too.

We arrived home. I helped Sara up, forgetting to zip up my trousers and buckle my belt, much to her enjoyment. After a nice filling meal (all of our meals are filling), we settled down. Sara wanted to weigh ourselves again after the largesse at her parents. I stepped onto the scale, and was shocked to find that I had gained 12 pounds. Sara giggled, and poked my belly. She stepped on and smiled, she had gained 17 pounds in four days of bingeing with her mom and sisters.

“Mom wants us to come for a week at Christmas!” she giggled, placing both hands on either side of her magnificent tummy and shaking it. I can't weight!