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My Kind of Wife
By Jim Fields

Many men get totally disgusted when, after a few years of marriage, their once thin brides first turn plump, then fat. If worse comes to worse, their former cheerleader gradually turns into a sloppy, obese housewife dressed in a muumuu. This happens to many young women and for many different reasons. Perhaps she was on a rigorous diet until she got married and then let herself go. Perhaps motherhood changed her metabolic functions. Or perhaps she was just genetically determined to add weight as she got older. This is a fairly common occurrence and I have always been fascinated by the process, especially when the change from thin bride to obese housewife is rapid and dramatic.

My own biggest fantasy has always been that this very thing would happen to me. I would marry a thin girl who was enthusiastically accepted by my friends and family. She'd bee the envy of every other female with her slim, trim figure and they'd admire her willpower when it came to exercise and staying away from fattening goodies. At our wedding my bride would be the perfect size 8 and she'd look like she'd stay that way forever.

Then soon after our wedding the unthinkable would begin to happen; my own slender new wife -the envy of every female in the family and among my friends - would start putting on weight! First it would only be a pound here and there. Then she'd get plump, much to the surprise and hidden delight of the females of my family. The surprise gives way to embarrassment as my wife's hips widen beyond belief and she's putting on a large potbelly. It finally turns into shock and then disgust as she keeps getting fatter and fatter every year until my once slender beauty turns into a muumuu full of jiggles, folds, and bulges, and sticks out like a sore thumb among my thin and trim friends. They would feel sorry for me and my bad luck, not knowing that, in reality, I have been secretly seducing her into eating and stuffing herself from the very first minute of our marriage. They wouldn't know that wherever she turned in our house, there would be candies and goodies for her to eat. They also wouldn't know that my wife had little choice in the matter. She didn't let herself go! I MADE her fat and would continue to do so, no matter what my family thought of us.

What I always felt guilty about is that I am most excited by the thought of making her fat against her will. In my dreams, I'd seek out a young, attractive, but somewhat self-important and conceited woman and marry her. From the minute we are pronounced man and wife, I'd turn things around completely. On the way home from the wedding I'd tell her about her destiny. That I'd keep her in the house, surround her with food, and never let her out. It'd be a battle of wills for quite some time, but I'd always make it totally clear to her that I was going to make her fat. Not just fat, but that I'd literally bury her under layers of blubber and make her so obese that eventually she'd be too fat to even move. Needless to say, the bright, thin beauty can't see herself ever losing her figure, much less turning into an obese tub of lard. She just laughs. But then her transformation begins.

At first she'd cry, scream, shout obscenities, and threaten lawsuits, but to no avail. I hope I won't have to resort to such drastic measures for long, but for the time being she's locked firmly in her room with no telephone and no means of communication to the outside world. She has no clothes either and so she's forced to spend her days wearing just a pair of panties. I leave her with nothing but the TV and her food. Of that there's plenty. She's surrounded by ample amounts of tempting goodies everywhere. Eventually she'd start eating just out of anger and boredom.

First she wouldn't admit it. Later I'd surprise her munching every now and then when I drop in on her. After awhile, she'd first resign in, then start enjoying the situation. She'd lounge in bed all day watching TV and munching on all the goodies that are in such endless supply. She does that even though by now the good life is starting to show, and her former 110 pound model's figure is already visibly rounder.

Cellulite is starting to show on her thighs and rear. A cute little potbelly has started to form and is swelling by the day. From now on I double the amount of food I leave for her every day when I go to work and she's starting to get into it, eating in a big way. It thrills me when she starts asking me to bring her a certain cake or flavor of ice cream and when I see that her ability to resist all that good food is rapidly declining.

A year after our wedding day she's changed quite a bit from the thin bride that she was. She now weighs almost 200 pounds and has become a spoiled and lazy young matron. There is no more need to keep her restrained in anyway. She's become very contented with her life of leisure and eating. Cellulite now covers much of her thighs, rear, and even her upper arms. Her belly is full and round, and her formally small breasts have developed into saggy, pendulous ones with stretch marks from her rapid growth. Rolls of fat are starting to develop on her sides as well. She's bulging out of her fourth set of underwear. Our sex life is now really getting better, but she's also quite insecure about it now that she's a "fat slob" (her words). I encourage and compliment her.

She wants to go on a diet, but I firmly tell her that she shouldn't waste a thought on this, because I'd turn her into a hugely obese balloon of a woman no matter what. She cries when I first tell her that, but I make it clear that I mean business and that I'd get her as fat as a house no matter how long it would take me. It's now slowly sinking into her head that she will never be thin again in her life and she's starting to realize that she will grow to become a very fat woman. She still doesn't have a clear conception, though, of just how huge she will become.

Fortunately, by now she's really grown fond of her food. She finds, much to her surprise, that she's not only gotten used to large portions but actually needs plenty of food just to keep from being hungry. This startles her. Portions that used to be full meals now just tickle her appetite and make her hungrier.

In the second year of our marriage she really puts on the pounds. At our second anniversary, she's become a bulging, sexy, fat momma. She's now just about covered with cellulite and lovely stretch marks, the result of having gained over 200 pounds in just two years. Her belly has grown into a big, round, protruding pot, just the way I like it.

Unbeknownst to her, she's been on appetite stimulants for a while now and I slip tow extra doses into her cocoa for our anniversary dinner. That night I stuff her like a prize goose until she's almost too full to breathe and she doesn't protest one bit. She seems to get pleasure out of testing her limits and she's proud that she can gobble up what ever I put in front of her. By the time I'm done with her for the night, her overstretched belly is tight as a drum and she can barely move. She ponderously waddles to the bed and plops down with a big belch. To top a wonderful night, I stuff her with candy until she's in a stupor.

When she finds out she weighs 400 pounds she goes into a brief period of depression and calls herself a "disgusting blubberbag." I tell her that she's gorgeous, that I just love all her blubber, and I'm crazy about all the rolls, folds, dimples, stretch marks, and mounds of jelly-like cellulite that now covers much of her body. But I also tell her that she's nowhere near fat enough for me yet and that she better start thinking about some serious eating soon if she wants me to keep her around and supplied with food.

She's still mad at times and resolves to go on a diet. The diet lasts all of twenty minutes, then she's gorging herself on a whole chocolate cake. She finds that she can't resist food anymore no matter how hard she tries! I'm thrilled. To drive the point home, I dare her to go on a diet again, while I sit on the other side of the table with a cake in front of me. She tries desperately, but every time she ends up begging me to let her eat the food within less that five minutes. Soon she realizes that she's hooked on food, lock, stock, and barrel. She's no longer a thin, stylish girl, but a big, fat eating machine.

Five years after our wedding the slender career girl I married has become a 725 pound mountain of blubbery flesh with a huge Buddha-like stomach, tremendous, sagging breasts, hugely fat thighs, and a gigantic rear end. Her upper arms are so fat that she can hardly reach the plates and dishes that are piled high on the table in front of her anymore. Her once smooth skin is no more; she is now virtually enveloped in very becoming cellulite. Her face is big and round with several chins and jowls. Her cheeks are full and round, stretched from constant eating. Her attitude has changed completely. All she wants to do now is eat.

I've created a monster. Instead of a thin active wife, like my friends have, I am married to a huge mountain of a woman who's gorging herself on ever increasing amounts of food around the clock.

I look at her and smile; she's not nearly fat enough for me yet, but by the time I'm through with her, she will be...