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Old 07-31-2011, 09:51 AM   #1
Join Date: Jun 2010
Posts: 60
snr6424 can now change their title
Default Control & Frustration - by snr6424 (~BHM, ~BBW, Stuffing, ~MWG)

Both, Stuffing, MWG. A husband's fantasy is revealed, but his wife doesn't think it will ever become a reality. When things start getting too "real" for her, she devises a plan of her own. Written from both POV's.

Control & Frustration

By snr6424


"No freaking way," she proclaimed, her bright blue eyes gleaming with confidence. "Not in a million years."

I had just revealed to Laura, my wife of four years, that I was a feeder. I admitted to her that I received a sexual thrill from feeding and fattening a woman. I was actually rather surprised that I had successfully kept that part of me a secret from Laura for the seven years we'd known each other. Lately, though, she had been pestering me to reveal more of my sexual fantasies. I had finally relented, sharing with her my desire to feed and fatten.

Her response had first been laughter and disbelief, unwilling to believe that I was serious. My face turned warm and eventually her laughter died. After making sure I was actually serious, Laura seemed almost lost for words. She looked at me for a while with an odd expression, while I mentally berated myself for breaking down and sharing this secret. Finally, after several excruciatingly long minutes, she smiled and told me that she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to indulge that particular fantasy. She laughed as she claimed that her will power kept her from gaining weight and claimed that being fed "really didn't appeal to her at all".

I wasn't sure what motivated me to do so, but I somewhat cheekily replied that if we kept enough junk food around she'd surely put on a few pounds. Despite my embarrassment over the whole thing, I even teased her a bit that maybe her will power only seemed strong because she wasn't surrounded by temptation.

"No way," Laura repeated, her full lips curling into a smirk. "I'm 125 pounds, the perfect weight at 5'7", and I've worked way too damn hard to keep it that way. There's no way a little extra junk food around the house would cause my self-control to crumble. Not a chance."

"Care to test that out?" I asked her, half joking.

"Sure, do your worst."

"You mean that? Really?"

"Uh-huh, just don't get too disappointed when we have to toss out all the junk food 'cause it's past the expiration date."

I was very intrigued. It was true that Laura had an almost superhuman ability to say no to dessert at a restaurant or avoid the snack table at a party. However, I had a sneaking suspicion that part of the reason she exerted such stringent self-control was a fear that once she gave in a little, she wouldn't be able to stop. I just had to find that one chink in her armor, I was almost positive it existed. Worse comes to worst, I waste a little money on junk food that no one eats.

Now, one may say that this is the kind of underhanded behavior that causes serious issues in a relationship, but at this point I really thought it was all in fun. I figured at the very least I'd get to act out a little of my fantasy in trying to persuade Laura to indulge. I had no idea where it would all lead.


For the next few weeks, it looked like Laura would be proved correct. I set up bowls of candy around the house, stocked the cupboards with snack cakes and chips, and always had a gallon or two of ice cream in the freezer.

"Awww . . . such a shame all that has to go to waste," Laura said with a fake pout as I threw away a full half-gallon container of mint chip ice cream.

She tossed her shoulder length blonde hair as she sauntered out of the kitchen, surely feeling good about herself for proving me wrong. Even though I preferred heavier women, I still admired the way her size 6 jeans hugged her firm, round ass. I wasn't actually all that disappointed by her continued resistance, I knew it was a long-shot and had kept my expectations low.

I figured maybe I'd give it a few more weeks before letting it fizzle out. It was at least fun for fantasy purposes, some nights I'd dream that we'd be sitting together on the couch and all of a sudden Laura would jump up and bolt into the kitchen. I'd follow her in there to find her at a table filled with all the goodies I bought, stuffing her face like there was no tomorrow. I knew it wasn't likely to actually happen, but that really was okay with me. We had a good marriage built on much more than satisfying a fetish, and I'd love her whether she was 125 or 325.


I could only shake my head and smile when Alan finally revealed his deepest sexual fantasy. I had been asking him for a while, and the longer he held out the more it made me think it was something really extreme. In the grand scheme of things, him being a chubby chaser was nothing too wild. Although the thought of being fed until I was really stuffed was pretty weird. Oh well, I just hoped that I hadn't disappointed him too much when I told him it would never happen. He did seem pretty happy when I told him he could buy lots of junk food to try and tempt me.

What Alan didn't know, and what I made sure was buried deep in my past, was the fact that I was a rather chubby teenager. I had a nearly insatiable sweet tooth and lacked the self-control to say no to chocolate even if I was already stuffed full of fattening treats. Once I figured out that no guy ever wanted to be with a heifer, I managed to sum up enough will power to start weeding sweets out of my diet. When I left for college I was svelte and toned thanks to a strict diet and lots of time at the gym. I even managed to avoid the dreaded "freshman 15", watching as my roommates ballooned from dorm food, late night pizza, and tons of beer.

I did still have one tiny little weakness, one insistent little craving that simply would not give up and die.


Luscious, creamy, smooth, indulgent cheesecake. I liked it plain, swirled with chocolate or caramel, topped with fruit, or just about any way it could be made. Once, when Alan was making one of his frequent trips out of town for work, I had gone a little crazy and bought an entire cheesecake. I polished off the entire thing in only three days, even though I was feeling ill by the end of it. I lived on salad and water for the next two weeks, partially to ensure that the cheesecake didn't manifest in a pair of gooey love handles, and partially to punish myself for losing control.

But that wouldn't happen this time. I was too strong, too focused, too determined to beat the temptation. Or so I hoped.


Damn that man! Just when I thought he was close to giving up this crazy fantasy of his, he goes and brings home an entire New York style cheesecake. I was good the first night, but the second night Alan went out to run errands and I could hear it calling to me. I managed to hold out for all of ten minutes before skulking into the kitchen, my hands trembling as I lifted the box out of the fridge.

I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't even bother cutting out a slice of the cheesecake, I simply grabbed a fork and attacked. I moaned out loud as the first bite hit my eager tongue, the creamy goodness sliding down my throat. In some sort of dream-like state, I ate bite after bite. I probably would have gorged until I was sick, but I was jolted out of my trance when I heard the garage door open. I scrambled from the table in a panic, desperately needing an idea on how to hide my indulgence.

I stared at the cake on the counter, nearly a fifth of it reduced to crumbs. Suddenly, I was struck with inspiration . . .


I had just walked in the door from running some errands when I heard a small crash coming from the kitchen, followed by Laura exclaiming "Oh no!". I dropped my bag and hurried in, worried that she may have dropped something on her foot. The sight that greeted me was Laura standing by the fridge with a carton of soy milk in her hand, a sheepish look on her face, and a smashed cheesecake spread out by her feet.

"Oh babe, I'm so sorry," she said. "I was getting my milk here and accidentally knocked over the cheesecake. I guess the good news is that no one was eating it anyway, right?"

"Don't worry about it," I reassured her. "Let's get it cleaned up. And plus, I can always pick up another one."

"No!" Laura protested. "I mean, um . . . no need for that, right? Those aren't cheap, and it'll just get tossed anyway."

I was a little taken aback by her forceful response. It almost made me wonder if . . .

"Hey, you got a little cheesecake on your toes," I pointed out. "Why don't you get cleaned up and I'll take care of this here."

"Oh, okay," she replied, looking down at her feet. "Thanks, hun. And sorry again for making a mess."

"Don't worry about it," I smiled.

I waited until she was gone and quickly scooped up the cheesecake into the cardboard box. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't caught, I took out the kitchen scale and placed the remains of the cheesecake on it. I looked on the box to find the weight of the cheesecake, then looked at the reading on the scale. After double and triple checking the numbers I put the scale away and placed the box in the trash. Then and only then I allowed a grin to spread across my face. That little minx had eaten some of the cheesecake, and she thought that she could hide it by dumping the rest on the floor.

It was then I believed for the first time that my trim little wife may have a much plumper future ahead of her. It was a pivotal moment in the events that would follow. I could have simply laughed it off or simply used it as fuel for my fantasies. Instead, however, I decided to take actual action based on what I had learned.

I quickly came up with a three-pronged attack against her self-control. First I would buy another cheesecake. Second, I would step it up in other areas, making sure plenty of sweet, salty, or greasy foods were always available. Third, I would make sure that the food would be displayed in such a way that I clearly couldn't track whether it was being eaten. Ice cream was out, but cookie jars filled with homemade baked goods were a good bet. I'd have to be very strategic, not just in what I bought but how it was displayed.

I barely managed to stop myself from rubbing my hands together and cackling like a cheesy movie supervillain. I didn't even pause to examine my motivations, it was just full speed ahead on the fattening train.


This was not good, not good at all. I had successfully disposed of one cheesecake, but Alan just replaced it with another. And this one was pre-sliced. I told myself that I couldn't eat a piece because then Alan would know, but then a horribly ingenious idea came to mind one night. If I ate just a tiny sliver of each slice, I could simply push them all together a little tighter and no one would ever know. I turned into a cheesecake fiend, sneaking a bite here and there, even waking up a few times in the middle of the night and slinking down to the kitchen for "just a taste".

Now I was frantically brushing my teeth while Alan was watching TV downstairs. He had spent the past weekend baking dozens of homemade chocolate chip cookies, and the smell had driven me practically insane. To my chagrin, I lacked the will power to resist snagging one as soon as he left the kitchen for a few minutes. Since they were all kept in a cookie jar, I didn't think he'd notice one missing. Of course, over the past few days one had turned into nearly a dozen and I was hoping that brushing my teeth would get rid of my "cookie breath".

It seemed that one furtive indulgence had opened the floodgates. I had even caught myself mindlessly grabbing a handful of chocolates from one of the many dishes Alan had spread throughout the house. I knew I had to stop, but I was like a recovering junk food junkie who kept telling myself "I can quit whenever I want" while sneaking just one more cookie.

The next morning Alan had to leave for a five day trip out of town for work, not coming back until Tuesday. He was a software designer who usually worked as a consultant, and there was a big convention in Atlanta that offered the opportunity for him to drum up some new business. I often envied his ability to work from home while I put in a good 50 hours or so each week in an office environment. Working in HR at a local advertising firm was sometimes stressful, but still quite rewarding.

That evening I came home from work (stopping at the gym like usual). I planned to have a very light dinner and then go to a movie with my friend Patty, I knew I had to stay out of the house to avoid temptation. Unfortunately, two back-to-back phone calls ruined that.

"I'm so sorry," Patty said. "It's just that Dan surprised me with reservations at that nice new restaurant downtown for an early anniversary present. Maybe we can do a movie tomorrow?"

"That's fine," I said. "We'll do it some other time."

Five minutes after I hung up with Patty, Alan called from Atlanta. After he told me about his flight and we said how much we'd miss each other, he dropped this bomb on me -

"Oh yeah, you may as well toss the cheesecake, I think it's near the expiration date. Throw away the cookies too, I'm sure they'll be stale soon. I have to admit, you were right about resisting all those sweets. It's a good thing I like to bake for the fun of it, or else I might give up soon."

I licked my lips unconsciously. "Uh-huh, sure I can get rid of those. Don't worry about it."

A few minutes later our conversation ended and I walked into the kitchen as if in a trance. I grabbed a fork and a glass, then took out the gallon of whole milk (where did that come from?). I placed the cheesecake and cookies on the table and sat down, clutching the fork in one hand.

After that, things got a little blurry. The next thing I remembered clearly was sitting on the couch Sunday night, wearing only a pair of panties and an old t-shirt. The coffee table was covered with a pizza box, two empty bags of chips and an empty cookie jar. I looked down, trying to ignore the many crumbs that adorned my chest and lap. My normally flat stomach bulged out obscenely, a pale orb that obscured my view of my panties. I pulled up my t-shirt so it was fully revealed, gently pressing against my bloated middle. The skin was stretched tight, my overstuffed tummy was quite hard to the touch.

I was awash with feelings of shame and self-loathing. My vaunted self-control had cracked and crumbled, much like the dozens of cookies that I had gorged upon. My throbbing belly churned and gurgled as it struggled to cope with my gluttony. I groaned out loud as I pushed myself forward and slowly rose to my feet. After a couple belches that would make a truck driver proud, I cleaned up the worst of the mess and waddled to bed. By the time Alan got back Tuesday night I had eaten just about every pastry and piece of candy in the house, buying some on my own to replace what was eaten. My stomach was so puffy from the overindulgence that I had struggled to find a skirt that still fit.

"So good to be home," Alan said as he walked in the door and greeted me with a kiss.

I hoped he couldn't taste salt on my lips, I had stopped at a fast food restaurant instead of the gym on my way home that day. I hoped that I would be able to control myself a little better now that he was around again.

"I'm so happy you're back," I told him. "I'm so lonely when you're gone."
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Old 07-31-2011, 09:54 AM   #2
Join Date: Jun 2010
Posts: 60
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"I brought you a couple presents," I smiled as we got up to the bedroom.

"Ooh, goody!" she squealed, clapping her hands.

I dug around in my suitcase, bringing out a large, round tin. I opened it up to reveal a large pile of assorted flavors of fudge. Laura's eyes widened and she gulped, her fingers twitching slightly.

"But I'm sure your will power will keep you from eating any," I said, putting the top back on.

"Oh, yeah, sure," she replied, her eyes staying on the tin of fudge as I put it on the dresser. She did seem very pleased with the pearl necklace I had brought back for her, and spent quite a few minutes in front of the mirror admiring the way they looked.

"Well, I gotta go to the bathroom," I said, walking out of the room.

After taking care of business, I left the sink running and the fan on while I quietly opened the door and snuck down the hallway. I carefully peeked around the door frame and almost laughed out loud when I saw Laura grabbing a piece of fudge out of the container. I went back to the bathroom and turned off the faucet and the fan, then strolled back to the bedroom while whistling out loud.

As I walked back into the bedroom Laura quickly gulped down what was left in her mouth and looked at me with such a guilty expression that I got an erection on the spot. The thought of her sneaking sweets was enough to make me incredibly horny.

"So . . . how should we celebrate my return?" I asked her, drawing close.

I lowered my head and started kissing the side of her neck. She shivered with pleasure when I kissed behind her ear, and I tried to casually place one hand on her stomach.

Without warning she swatted it away, then stepped back from my advances.

"Um, ah, I just remembered I left dinner on the stove!" she stammered before rushing out of the bedroom.

I chuckled as I watched her leave, she was plainly self-conscious about me discovering the fruits of her indulgences. I thought it was pure genius on my part to tell her to "throw away" all those goodies before I got back. Even if she just ate a little of what was there, it was great progress.

I had to adjust my pants before I followed her downstairs for supper. I hoped that she wouldn't keep trying to escape having sex, especially since all this thinking about her gaining weight was making me perpetually aroused. Before going downstairs I grabbed a piece of fudge for myself. After all, one piece wouldn't hurt.

I have to admit, that was damn good fudge.


It finally happened. I think in the back of my mind I knew it was inevitable if I continued down this path. Still, I had managed to stay in denial.

At least, until today.

It started out as a normal Friday, I was rushing around while Alan ate his breakfast and read the newspaper at the kitchen table. We get to wear jeans on Fridays, so I snagged a pair without thinking and started to yank them on. This particular pair was one of my favorites, it really highlighted my long legs and toned rear.

To my despair, the denim caught about three-fourths of the way up my thighs. I gasped in horror as I realized what had happened.

I, Laura Melinda Watkins, had gained weight. I tugged and swore and pulled and huffed and puffed and finally the jeans got up to my hips. With grim determination I took ahold of both flaps and pulled them together.

They didn't make it. I glared at the soft flesh that pooched out, keeping the flaps spread out in a V shape. In a fit of pique I threw myself flat onto my bed, sucked in as much as possible, and tugged with all my might.

That damn button and button-hole were still separated by a good inch. I bit my lip, feeling like I was about to cry. I grabbed my "fat jeans" from the closet, the pair that would fit during "that time of month" when I was all puffy and bloated. I threw on a loose blouse that would disguise the fact that I now had love handles! After a quick kiss on the cheek for Alan, I hurried off to work.

For the entire drive I was miserably aware of how the waistband of my "fat jeans" still managed to pinch my softened waistline. I knew I was only a few pounds away sporting an actual muffin top! In order to calm myself a bit, I stopped at my favorite coffee shop on the way to work. Of course I ended up getting a large caramel latte with whipped cream and a ridiculously huge pastry. I knew this behavior was making it worse, but I just couldn't stop. Every time I started to stress at work I made a trip to the vending machine, and for lunch I walked down the street to a sub shop and ate a foot-long meatball sub with chips and a large soda. I was so full I felt like I could pop, but I still stopped at a bakery to grab a large chocolate chip cookie on my walk back.

Even though I was stuffed full after work from the big lunch and constant snacking, I still stopped at the drive-thru to grab a double cheeseburger and large vanilla shake. By the time I pulled into the driveway at home my pants were unbuttoned and I was a queasy mess. I told Alan I was feeling a little under the weather and put on my pajamas, thankful for the elastic waist. I managed to avoid eating anything else, even after Alan offered to make me soup. I fell asleep quite early, my stomach still rumbling softly.


I awoke to the sensation of Alan's fingers gently squeezing the soft flesh that had recently gathered right below my navel. I turned on my side, facing away from, but he just moved in closer. I could tell he was in an obvious state of excitement as his crotch pressed against my rear, his arm reaching over my side so he could keep fondling my pudge. I have to be honest, as much as I felt disgusting from the binging and weight gain, his insistent horniness actually turned me on as well. It had been a while since we made love, especially as I got more self-conscious about my body. My only concern was that he'd feel my softer form as I lay beneath him.

"Someone a little frisky?" I murmured.

"Mmm," he replied, his face against my neck.

"Maybe we can try it . . . that other way?" I suggested.

"Really?" Alan asked, his voice rising a bit in excitement.

I knew doggy style was one of his favorite positions. Although it wasn't all that appealing to me, I knew each time I suggested "that other way", he'd be raring to go. I figured this time at least it would keep him from finding out that my toned stomach was rounder and softer.

We quickly slid out of our clothes and got into position. It was rare for us to even go a week without sex, so neither of us needed much warming up. However, I quickly realized my error as Alan knelt behind me and slowly slid inside. As much I enjoyed the sensation of joining together, I was distracted by the way his hands gripped my new love handles. My ass felt large and soft as it molded against his hips. With my heavier breasts swaying beneath me as we found our rhythm, I felt like a cow. The worst part was when Alan really picked up the pace and I felt the new layer of fat on my belly jiggle and ripple with each thrust.

We, or should I say he, finished quite quickly. Alan managed to half mumble something about whether it was good for me before he fell into a deep sleep. I pulled my clothes back on and spent some time staring at the ceiling, wondering what I could do to gain back the control. I'm ashamed to admit that I did take a quick trip down to the kitchen for a late-night snack before falling asleep.


I watched as Laura prepared a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, studiously ignoring the box of doughnuts open on the kitchen table. The doughnuts were a stupid impulse buy when I went out to get the paper that morning. I was hoping that since it was becoming apparent that she had put on a few pounds she'd ease up a little on trying to hide her eating. I even ate a doughnut myself, but that still didn't do the trick. Oh well, I couldn't be too upset. I actually couldn't stop thinking about last night.

Laura was never a huge fan of that particular position, so for her to suggest it was quite a treat. I could feel that her figure was starting to soften and expand. Her hips were blurred with a slight layer of adipose, her tight rear a little more bubbly. I felt a little bad that I didn't last longer. Not only had it been a while, but as soon as I entered her I started fantasizing about seeing her in that position in the future. I envisioned a widened rear and huge handfuls of plumpness, her swaying breasts almost reaching the sheets and a hanging paunch slapping against her fattened thighs. Heck, with that kind of mental image it's a miracle I lasted as long as I did.

We sat and chatted as we lingered over breakfast. I could tell that Laura wasn't completely satisfied with her oatmeal, but she managed to restrain from reaching for a doughnut. I myself somehow ate two more as I sat there. Better keep an eye on that, all these goodies are to fatten her up, not me.

"I thought I might make pot roast for dinner," Laura mentioned.

"Ooh, that's my favorite," I remarked.

"Well, we haven't had it in a while. I think I'll go take my shower then run to the store to get all the ingredients. What do you have going on today?"

"Well, there's a game on this afternoon that I might watch. And, um . . . "

I lost my train of thought as Laura got to her feet and stretched, raising her hands up far above her head and arching her back. Her robe parted, revealing a gap between her t-shirt and pajama pants. It was quite obvious that her navel had deepened considerably, and a hint of love handles poked out even above her elastic waistband.

"And what?" she asked, pulling her robe closed again.

"Um, that's probably about it."

"Ok, I'm gonna run up and take my shower now."

I watched her walk away, already imagining her naked in the shower and soaping up her luscious body. I decided to catch up on some e-mail before the game started so I went to the living room, grabbing another doughnut on the way.


Dinner was amazing, Laura really could cook up a great pot roast. Since it was my favorite I even took a hearty portion of seconds, feeling comfortably stuffed by the time my plate was cleaned. It looked like Laura may have taken a larger than usual portion for herself, but no seconds. She waved me away after dinner so she could clean up. After a few minutes I peeked in the kitchen and caught Laura sneaking a cookie as she did the dishes. There was no doubt in my mind that I had won, my calorie-conscious wife was now scarfing down goodies and plumping up right before my eyes. It was a dream come true!

Later that evening we watched a movie together, snuggled up on the couch. With my arm wrapped around her I was able to subtly rest my hand on her softer hip. It had only been a few weeks but the changes were starting to be quite noticeable. This was even better than I could have imagined. I found myself wondering what she'd look like in six months or a year. This actually got me so horny I tried to initiate a little action on the couch, but Laura was really into the movie and didn't reciprocate.

Oh well. I grabbed a couple pieces of candy from the end table and returned to my fantasies of a 200 pound wife.


Days turned into weeks and my once-strong self-control was nowhere to be found. I was even taking seconds at dinner right in front of Alan. He didn't say anything but I could see the smug satisfaction in his eyes. It was getting so bad that I even had to upgrade my wardrobe. That hint of softness was transforming into pinchable inches all over the place. While Alan was down in the living room watching a game I took the opportunity to finally face the ugly truth.

I was getting fat.

I stripped down to my underwear, still in my old sizes. I critically examined the body that betrayed me, my formerly slim frame that now seemed all too eager to store every single calorie. My face hadn't changed, and fortunately my complexion hadn't been impacted by my gluttonous sweet tooth. Biceps that used to be firm and well-defined were suffering from lack of gym time, they had lost tone but weren't yet wobbly. It was time to invest in some new bras (or better yet, lose weight!). Fortunately my breasts were still perky, but they were much heavier handfuls that now threatened to pop out of the undersized cups.

The middle of my body had clearly taken the brunt of the gain. Puffy love handles adorned my sides, if I poked them my finger would travel over an inch into the soft adipose. The waistband of my panties no longer cut straight across my abdomen, it now dipped down beneath my bulging belly. I turned to the side and pulled back my shoulders as I straightened up. If I sucked in with all my might my pudgy abdomen looked almost flat. After nearly turning purple in the face I exhaled and relaxed my straining stomach muscles, letting my new little gut pooch out in all its glory.


Looking at my profile I was also treated to the unpleasant sight of my larger ass sticking out behind me. I wiggled a bit and watched the soft flesh wobble and ripple like a bowl of jello. Disgusting.

I sighed in dismay and slid my new jeans on, noting that they were already a little snug. I wanted to tell myself that I was only a few gym visits away from fitting into my old pants, but all I wanted at that moment was a huge bowl of ice cream. My vaunted will-power barely offered a fight, and minutes later I was sitting down in the kitchen with several scoops of ice cream covered in hot sauce and whipped cream.

As I spooned the cold treat down my gullet I imagined that I could feel myself plumping up all over. I envisioned my bra creaking as it struggled to hold up my heavier melons, my spare tire inching further over the waistband of my jeans, my ass and thighs blimping up and causing seams to fray.

I wanted to blame Alan for all of this. I wanted to hate him for making me so fat and weak. But I had to face the cold, hard facts. Alan never forced me to take a bite, all he did was give me the opportunity. Obviously I was the pathetic little fatty who had tricked myself into thinking that I had strong will-power and the determination to stay in shape.

As I forced down the last of the ice cream, wondering whether I should unbutton my pants, I did decide that Alan would have to be taught a lesson. Maybe this wasn't entirely his fault, but neither should he be rewarded. He wanted to have sex with a fat girl but that was not going to happen. I resolved that as long as he persisted in luring me to a fatter future, I would hold out on him sexually. It would be easier for me to lose weight without all the temptation around, but if I begged Alan to take it away then he had won. If I just held out on him for a while maybe he'd finally get the picture and decide that having sex with his slim wife was better than no sex at all.
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Old 07-31-2011, 10:00 AM   #3
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The past several weeks have been amazing. Laura has been growing rounder and softer before my very eyes, all her clothes becoming noticeably tighter as the pounds accumulated. A few times I caught her raising her arms above her head in a stretch, her top riding up enough to reveal unfastened pants and soft flesh oozing over the waistband. That vision of sexiness was enough to make me hard immediately, aching for a taste of that delicious plumpness.

Unfortunately, Laura has turned into the Ice Queen in the bedroom. Every advance has been rebuffed without fail. I couldn't even coax her into making out. As a result, I was so horny I was losing my mind. Long showers could only do so much, and I was desperate for an outlet. Fortunately, or unfortunately, one existed already in abundant supply.

At first I didn't notice that I was grabbing a brownie or a handful of candy each time that Laura denied my attempts to induce foreplay. Eventually, I began to realize that I was comforting myself with junk food. As the weeks went on my consumption rose to almost match Laura's, and it seemed I was powerless to stop it. Every time she heaped seconds onto her plate at dinner or I caught her biting into a chocolate bar with those perfectly white teeth and plump red lips, I turned to food. Each time I pictured her naked or struggling to button her jeans over her protruding belly, I made a mad dash for the kitchen and substituted my craving for sex with a craving for a hot fudge sundae.

Needless to say, it didn't take long for the consequences to be observed. My own jeans started pinching around the waist as my formerly flat and toned stomach began to look soft and round. Bombarding my system with all those empty calories was obviously going to take its toll, and I wondered how long it would be before it simply wasn't worth it. Trading in my 32's for 34's seemed a small price to pay in order to watch my lovely bride expand into a voluptuous knockout, but would I be willing to watch my own waistline hit the 40's?

My train of thought was derailed when Laura joined me in the living room. As she sat down next to me I couldn't help but notice the way a thick roll of flesh spilled out over her too-tight waistband. Her jeans were painted on, I even saw that the outer seam traveling down her plumper thigh was starting to fray.

"Watcha looking at?" Laura asked me.

I cleared my throat and forced myself to stop staring at her new pudge.

"Um, nothing," I replied, crossing my legs to hide my response.

I reached for a chocolate on the end table, doing my best to appear casual. When I glanced back at Laura she was looking at me thoughtfully.


When Alan reached for a piece of candy I realized something peculiar. As his torso twisted to grab from the ever present jar of sweets, his shirt pulled tight over his abdomen. Where I was used to seeing a stomach that was as flat as a board, I was now treated to the sight of a rather noticeable protrusion above his waistband.

I found myself wondering where that had come from, and why I hadn't noticed it sooner. I guess the second question had an easy answer, I was too busy worrying about my own weight gain to really notice any subtle changes in Alan. I was still intrigued as to what had caused it, though.

Could it simply be because so much junk food was available? I really enjoyed the thought of Alan's scheme backfiring, and seeing him balloon up instead of me. However, I could have sworn that his new little tummy was a recent addition. The house had been stocked with all sorts of fattening fare for the past few months now. What could have triggered it?

Then I thought of the way he was ogling my softer midsection right before scarfing down a piece of candy. We hadn't been intimate in a while. Despite the frustration it caused me as well, I had successfully held out on him since I had vowed to force Alan to relent. Could that have been what forced him over the edge?

I decided to test my hypothesis.

"Mmm, I'm so tired," I murmured, faking a yawn and raising my hands up above my head.

I watched Alan out of the corner of my eye. Even though he pretended to watch TV, I could tell that he was glancing over at me by the way his eyes widened slightly. As I stretched, I could feel the hem of my shirt rise higher than the waistband of my jeans, baring the soft pale flesh that had become my mortal enemy.

My feelings toward my newly acquired adipose were still hostile, but I was willing to use every tool at my disposal if it meant beating Alan at his own game. I watched Alan mindlessly grab another chocolate as I finished my exaggerated stretch.

"Maybe I'll lay down a bit," I remarked, shifting on the couch so my head rested on a pillow and my feet sat in Alan's lap.

I closed my eyes and pretended to be drifting off to sleep, occasionally twitching my feet slightly and brushing against his obvious hard-on. It was difficult to not smile as I listened to the constant rustle of candies being unwrapped. I wiggled my feet again and heard him moan softly.

Oh yes, this could work quite nicely.


The next night I decided to further test my theory over dinner. I made chicken parmesan, fettucine alfredo, butternut squash and hot crescent rolls. I purposefully wore a very tight low cut top and a pair of jeans that sat low and barely buttoned. I tried not to be depressed that I could barely squeeze into a pair of jeans I bought a little over a month ago, I told myself that it was just something else to use to my advantage.

I filled both our plates, and with a creative spreading of sauce I managed to hide the fact that Alan's portion was nearly twice as big as my own. As we began to eat, I made sure to pace myself so I didn't finish ahead of Alan. When both our plates were cleaned, I leaned back with a contented sigh and rested one hand my middle.

"Boy, that was pretty good, if I do say so myself," I stated. "I wonder if I have room for a tiny bit more."

"It was delicious," Alan agreed. "You could always have a little more of the fettucine, that's always best when it's fresh."

"Hmm, maybe," I replied, my hands fiddling at my waist. "Will you have seconds, too?"

I tried not to laugh as Alan nodded eagerly. He was so horny and desperate to see me eat more. This was going to be so easy.

"Well, okay, I could probably have a little more," I relented. "I'm gonna get a refill on my water first."

I got to my feet and walked past Alan, sure that he would notice my obviously unbuttoned jeans. When I returned to the table I almost laughed out loud, Alan looked like he was in some sort of near-orgasmic trance. He didn't even seem to notice that his second serving was even bigger than his first.

Again I made sure I finished my much smaller portion when he finished his. I made a show of pressing a fist to my mouth and puffing out my cheeks as if I was stifling a belch. My belly felt warmly full, but the real thrill was imagining how stuffed Alan must feel. Not that I was done yet.

As I was clearing the dished I leaned over to grab his empty plate. With my low cut blouse Alan was powerless to stop ogling my bountiful breasts. I took advantage of his distraction to note that his belt was now on the second to last notch.

"We've got some ice cream in the freezer, wouldn't you like some for dessert?" I suggested, wiggling every so slightly so that the girls swayed before his eyes in hypnotic fashion.

Alan licked his lips and nodded. Too easy. I got out a big bowl and filled it with about six scoops of Brownie Fudge Blast ice cream. I think he was about to protest but I interrupted him with another big fake yawn and stretch. His mouth actually gaped slightly as he stared at my rounded midsection.

To help take his mind off the task in front of him, I started working on the dishes. I made sure to bend over often to put dishes on the lower rack, my wider ass pointing right at him. He never stood a chance. After about 20 minutes I heard his spoon clank against the empty bowl.

"Oh, done already?" I asked. "I must not have given you enough, sorry about that."

I grabbed his bowl before he could argue, filling it with another four scoops. When I placed it in front of him I leaned down so that my boobs "accidentally" brushed against his shoulder. Sure enough, that was all he needed to dive back into the sweets. I finished up the dishes as he finished up his dessert, finally taking the empty bowl from him and placing it in the dishwasher.

Alan was red-faced and breathing heavily, his eyes glassy and unfocused. I hoped he didn't see my shoulders shaking with silent laughter as I walked out of the kitchen. He looked incredibly bloated and uncomfortable, I didn't think anything less than a fire could get him out of that chair. Now that I knew how to manipulate him, I knew Alan would be finishing many meals in the future puffing for breath and too stuffed to move.

The night was almost a total success. I say "almost", because after Alan finally waddled out to the couch in the living room and passed out, I scurried into the kitchen and grabbed the ice cream. I'm ashamed to admit that by the time I finally finished my binge, I had probably eaten even more than Alan.

Oh well, the tables were turning and I was confident that Alan would soon surrender. As long as I didn't admit that he had succeeded in fattening me up, I felt that I could hold on to some of my pride.


I sucked in harder, imagining that my face must be nearly purple at this point. Still no good, they simply wouldn't button. I almost wasn't sure how to react; how could it be that I couldn't button my jeans that I bought just over a month ago? I knew my comfort eating was spiraling out of control, but I hadn't realized that the damage was this severe already.

It wasn't enough anymore to grab a quick snack every time I felt a little horny. That simply didn't cut it anymore. The only way I could find any relief at all was to cram my gut so full of fatty foods that I could scarcely twitch a finger. Only eating until I was painfully full seemed to have an effect on stifling my extreme horniness.

I guess I had been turning a blind eye to the effect that it had been having on my body. Every excess calorie seemed to go straight to my gut, swelling it into a taut sphere. It was odd that it was rather firm to the touch, probably a side effect of gaining so quickly. Experimentally, I tried sucking in a bit again.

No movement. It sat there stubbornly, sticking out like I had swallowed a small basketball. I had two choices, either upgrade my wardrobe (making sure I gave myself plenty of room to grow), or admit that Laura was beating me at my own game. Just then, Laura walked in and made my choice a heck of a lot easier.

"Hey," she said as she walked in the bedroom.

She was wearing some sweat-soaked spandex and breathing hard, her slightly rounder face bright pink. I had noticed that she had made a few attempts to start working out again, usually using a DVD at home instead of going to the gym. I suppressed a smirk as I noted the way her spandex leggings accentuated her meatier thighs and wider hips. She wore a baggy t-shirt over her sports bra, a rather new development. I was sure she just wanted to hide her puffy love handles, her embarrassment made the whole thing that much hotter.

"Good workout?" I asked, trying to look innocent.

"Yeah, really good," she lied.

I knew she was struggling to get through 20 or 25 minutes of low impact workouts, I could hear her audibly gasping for breath shortly after she began her DVD. I relished the thought of her bending over, struggling to touch her toes while her belly bunched up into soft rolls, plump ass stretching the spandex until it was nearly transparent. Burning a few calories was a small price to pay for that glorious mental picture.

"So what are you up to today?" Laura asked, fiddling with her t-shirt.

"Um, thought I might head over to the mall," I replied. "I saw they had a good sale on dress shoes at one of the department stores, my brown pair is kinda worn out."

I didn't divulge that my real reason was to upgrade my wardrobe to a larger size. If she could pretend she was still a size 6 I could pretend I still had a 32" waist. I also knew that she was waiting for me to leave the room before she took her shower. For some reason Laura had always preferred getting completely undressed in the bedroom before going into our master bath. I was determined to wait her out, it seemed that I hadn't had many opportunities lately to see her completely naked.

"Oh, y'know, I could use a few of my own things," she remarked. "Would you mind waiting until after my shower to go?"

"Not at all," I said as I sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'll be happy to wait."

Laura narrowed her eyes slightly, but then sighed and started to disrobe. I tried not to stare too openly as she undressed, but it was all I could do to not drool. Smooth expanses of creamy skin were revealed, I was almost shocked at how very soft she looked now. Luscious thighs brushed against each other, melding into hips that flared out delightfully. Thick love handles wrapped around to meet a softly swelling belly, topped with a pair of the most perfect breasts I'd ever seen. As she walked past me, her cheeks still pink (but not from exertion), I admired the way her supple ass wobbled and shook with each step.

It seemed almost ludicrous that we both kept up this facade that she hadn't really gained that much when it was so very obvious. However, just seeing her blossom into a much plumper shape was not enough for me. I was determined to see Laura admit that she gotten fat. In my mind it always played out the same way -

I reached our bedroom door, finding it closed. I twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open, stopping just inside the room. Laura stood there completely naked, looking at her reflection in the full length mirror. In my fantasies she was probably pushing 200, truly a blossoming BBW.

With wide eyes she turned to me, both hands cradling her bulging belly.

"I've gotten so fat," she said in a breathy voice, her lips pouting sexily.

"Have you?" I smirked, looking her up and down.

She looked back at herself in the mirror, her hands exploring every curve.

"Look at me," she moaned. "I've put on so much weight! How did I get so fat?"

"Guess your bragging came back and bit you in the butt, huh?" I teased her, drawing closer.

"I don't know what it is . . . I just can't stop eating. No matter how full I get, I need just one more bite . . . until I'm too full to move."

I laughed. "My, you've turned into quite the little piggy. But you're not quite done yet."

"Am I going to get fatter?" she asked in a small voice.

I placed the palm of my hand on her bulging belly, jiggling it gently. "Oh yes, quite a bit fatter."

The sound of the bathroom door closing behind Laura roused my from my reverie. There was a burning in my loins and a gnawing ache deep in my gut that propelled me downstairs. My mind had been made up for me. As I gorged myself on greasy potato chips and leftover Black Forest cake, all I could see was my fantasized version of a much plumper Laura gazing up at me with wide eyes while she cradled her fattened stomach.

When I heard the water shut off upstairs I rose with a grimace from the table and quickly hid the evidence. Rubbing my overfull stomach and stifling a large belch, I was glad I was wearing a shirt that was long enough to hide the fact that my jeans were not only unbuttoned, but also mostly unzipped.

Once we finally got to the mall, we split up to do our own shopping. I bought several pairs of pants that were rather roomy in the waist, and a couple longer belts. When I met back up with Laura she had several large shopping bags of her own, and the mere thought of her having to upgrade her wardrobe to some larger sizes was enough to make me crave some cheese fries and a milkshake. I managed to hold my appetite in check until we got home and Laura was putting away her new clothes.

As I was using chocolate chip cookies to spoon pudding into my mouth, I found myself wondering if my new 40 waist pants would prove to be large enough.


I almost giggled aloud at the sight. Alan was reaching up to grab something from the top of the cupboard, and I had a perfect view of him in profile. His shirt slid up enough to reveal his swollen midsection hanging several inches over his straining waistband. He tugged this shirt back down after retrieving the box of cereal, the buttons gaping noticeably.

I was frankly amazed at how quickly he had ballooned over the past few months. It looked as if someone had inserted a hose in him and turned it on high, his gut expanding by the hour. Last week we went out to eat, and while we waited I overheard a conversation between a pair of women.

"You look really good for 39 weeks," one woman had remarked to her pregnant friend.

"Thanks. I feel huge, but I've only put on 31 pounds. Exercising the whole time has really paid off."

"Yeah, and at least you're not as big as that guy over there," the first woman tittered.

I fought to keep a grin off my face, I could see them both staring at Alan's protruding middle. Unfortunately, the next comment deflated by suddenly puffed-up ego.

"I'm pretty sure I'm in better shape than her, too," the pregnant woman stated. "My ass is like half that size."

As much as I had enjoyed watching Alan blimp up, I was forced to admit that my own gain hadn't slowed at all. I was beginning to feel very heavy, weighed down by my corpulence. Growing used to my new size was difficult, I frequently found myself knocking stuff over with my large rear or because I forgot how far my hips stuck out. Simple stuff like painting my toenails or tying my shoes too an embarrassing amount of effort now as my own substantial paunch always seemed to be in the way.

Just over a month ago I had been on the verge of giving up and admitting defeat. A short workout had really driven home how woefully out of shape I had become. As I walked up the stairs, feeling my thighs brush together and my pot belly jiggle with each step, I had decided to surrender. However, my mind had been changed immediately as I walked through our bedroom door and caught Alan struggling to button up his new jeans.

My resolve strengthened, I would beat Alan at his own game. I just needed to do it soon, the numbers on the scale were climbing at an alarming rate.


When it had first become apparent that Alan's plan to fatten me up was in fact working, I had resorted to childishly cutting him off from sex. It wasn't something I normally did, but the shock of my self-control crumbling pathetically had fueled an overreaction. However, once it became apparent that holding out on sex was causing Alan to start packing on the pounds himself, I decided not to relent. Now, however, there was yet another unforeseen consequence of this sexual embargo.

I was hornier than I had ever been in my life. Our lovemaking had always been great, and I don't think I had realized how accustomed I was to our regular intimacy. Now my plan on holding out on him was backfiring, as I found myself also reaching for food to replace sex. What was even more peculiar was that my physical attraction to Alan seemed to increase even more as he gained weight. I couldn't figure out for the life of me why the sight of him reclining on the couch with his gut swollen into a sphere caused a tremor to run down my spine.

It would help if I wasn't too horny to think straight, but I wondered if Alan's revelation of his fetish had somehow linked feeding with sex somewhere in the deep recesses of my psyche. Either way, the rising sexual tension was driving me insane. The dam was sure to burst soon, I just wanted to make sure he broke first.

Hence, my master plan. Over the next month Alan would be tempted with one gut-busting meal after another as I strategically preyed on his habit of comfort eating. I believed I had perfected my technique. Using a combination of tight clothing and groans of fullness to exaggerate how much I was eating and gaining, I was pretty sure I could entice Alan to gorge almost constantly.

It started tonight.

"Ooh, macaroni and cheese," Alan observed as I removed the dish from the oven.

He smiled at me as I put the dish on the table, not-so-subtly admiring my thicker form. I had crammed myself into a pair of old sweat pants that now clung to every curve. My t-shirt was similarly tight and couldn't quite cover the love handles that poked out to each side.

The mac & cheese was joined by bread stuffing, smoked Gouda and spinach rice casserole, and loaded twice-baked potatoes. It was all rich and heavy food sure to stick to his ribs, or better yet inflate his waistline.

"Bon appetit," I grinned at him.
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Old 07-31-2011, 10:04 AM   #4
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I groaned softly. It seemed that almost every meal over the past 3 weeks had ended with me so stuffed I could barely waddle up to bed to lay down. Laura had been a cooking fiend lately, and I was shoveling down the food like it was my job. I would have been a little worried that the tables had been turned, but it seemed that every time I turned around she was busting out of her own clothes as well.

I stifled a belch and grimaced as my overfull stomach complained. It was starting to get a bit ridiculous, I was ballooning out of control. With one week 'til Thanksgiving, I was losing my resolve. Between eating antacids by the fistful and outgrowing a pair of jeans in record time, I knew this had to end soon. Laura had to be at the brink of giving up, she had to be!

I belched again, groaning in discomfort. I rolled my shirt up to my chest, hardly able to believe that this grossly distended abdomen was actually mine. Frankly, and it disgusted me to admit it, I looked pregnant. I had blown up so quickly that my skin seemed to have a faint shine to it, my navel flattening from the internal pressure. Fortunately I didn't have stretch marks, but my skin's elasticity had to be reaching its limit.

It had been a surreal experience, an almost unending haze of libido-fueled gluttony with few moments of lucidity. Not only did all my weight out front resemble a parody of a pregnancy, but my rapid weight gain lent to me the unique experience of understanding what a woman went through over nine months. While I was thankful to be spared such issues as morning sickness and mood swings, I was also aware that I wouldn't be losing this weight through childbirth. No, it was with me until I could pare it off pound by pound.

Was I crazy to put myself through such an ordeal? It was certainly possible. But my intellect had lost the war against my sexual urges, and quite frankly it was a rout. I was careening down into the ravine of gluttony and I was without brakes.

I could only hope that Laura would crash first.


I buttoned up my brand new slacks, enjoying the fact that I didn't even have to suck in. Still, with this afternoon dedicated to the feast of Thanksgiving, I knew that gorging myself was inevitable. My button-down shirt wasn't brand new, and it was noticeably snug. I took a deep breath experimentally, noting how the buttons gaped. But at least they held, that was all I hoped for.

"Dinner's ready!" Laura called.

I sighed and preemptively loosened my belt by a notch. As I walked down the stairs I passed her coming up. It was almost funny how much of a squeeze it was now, between my substantial paunch and her wider form.

"Just gonna get changed," she explained as we passed by each other. "Go ahead and start carving the turkey."

I pulled up short when I entered the kitchen, gaping at the sight before me. She had put all three leaves into our table, but still it was practically overflowing with food. A huge golden-brown turkey sat in the center, surrounded by mashed potatoes, squash, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce, fruit salad, two types of stuffing, and crescent rolls.

I went ahead and began to carve the turkey, getting several servings ready before Laura returned. When she did, my eyes almost shot out of my skull.

"Like it?" she asked.

Laura wore the teddy she had purchased for our first anniversary. Of course, this was many pounds ago. I couldn't stop staring at the vision in front of me, every fantasy paled in comparison. Her larger breasts were scarcely contained, the nipples on the verge of peeking out. The bodice had formerly wrapped more than halfway around her torso, tied shut in the back. It now struggled to contain her swollen pot belly, and the ribbon to tie it shut bit deeply into her side rolls. The tiny bottoms were barely visible between the lower swell of her bulging middle and her plump thighs.

My physical response was so sudden and intense that I could feel my slacks constrict.

"Let's eat," I said hoarsely, my heart hammering my chest.

She grinned at me and grabbed a plate. Together we attacked the spread like a pair of starving wolves. I couldn't shovel in the food fast enough to sate the gnawing ache. My plate was filled and emptied more times than I could count, sometimes Laura would even pass me a dish without me asking for it.

My belt was loosened then unbuckled, my pants unbuttoned and unzipped. Still I ate. I hiccuped, belched, groaned, and gasped. But still I ate. I became flushed, groggy, short of breath. Then I ate more. I was bloated, heavy, engorged, and growing fatter by the minute. Still, I found myself reaching for more food.

From time to time I had enough presence of mind to glance over at Laura to see how she was faring. With her cheeks puffed out from constantly stuffing her face, she was the very embodiment of my every wish. I could only see the top of her abdomen, but it did look as if she too was greatly increasing her girth.

I was surprised that my chair was not creaking beneath me. As I mechanically moved the fork from plate to mouth, still eating although I was well past glutted, I realized that this was ridiculous. It was time to give in.


I whimpered slightly, puffing for breath. My big Thanksgiving plan was totally backfiring. Instead of enticing Alan to gorge himself to the point of surrender, I was the one pigging out. I had untied the top of my teddy when I started feeling short of breath from my extreme overeating. My terribly bloated stomach was resting on my thighs, taut and turgid.

"That's it," I gasped, finally dropping my fork.

I just couldn't do it anymore, this was stupid. What had I been thinking?

"I give up, you win," I said to Alan. "Ooh, my stomach . . . I feel so disgusting."

"What do you *hic* mean?" Alan asked. "I win what?"

"This whole stupid thing. You won. I'm fat."

"Oh, no babe. I give up. This was stupid, I let this get out of hand. I don't know what I was thinking, things just kind of spiraled out of control. Shoot, look at me, I think I gained more weight than you did."

I giggled, then groaned when my overfull stomach complained. "I did enjoy watching you gain too. At first it was just revenge, I was mad at you because I didn't have any self-control. I know that's stupid, and I don't know why it bothered me that you like me heavier."

"I love you at any weight, really. Let's stop this silly thing. We'll lose all this weight together."

I looked at him for a moment. "Maybe we don't really need to lose this weight."

Alan's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

I leaned back in the chair, absentmindedly rubbing my midsection. "I have to admit, I've honestly thought it was a little hot to see you pork up too."

"What? Really??"

I could feel my face warming. "Yeah, I dunno, maybe I'm just a perv like you. And I know I made a big deal about not getting fat myself, but you obviously like me this way and I'm not sure why I made such a fuss about staying skinny. But now that I'm all plump for you, you better not even think about leaving me."

Alan just smiled at me. "Fat or thin, I'm yours until I die."

His eyes shone with tender love and I felt so ashamed that I had acted so childishly. "I love you, hun. Happy Thanksgiving."

"Happy Thanksgiving, indeed," he chuckled. "If I could get out of this chair I'd suggest a trip to the bedroom."

Bracing my hands against the edge of the table, I rose awkwardly to my feet. I slipped off the top and stood there clad in only a tiny pair of panties. The look on Alan's face was priceless, it reminded me of our wedding night.

"Maybe I can move after all," he said.

I walked around the table and helped him to his feet, frankly amazed by the size of his swollen ball of a belly. We staggered upstairs, the sexual tension palpable. Once in our bedroom I helped him strip naked and fall into bed. When I went to pull off my panties the elastic waistband snapped apart and they just fell off. Alan practically yanked me onto the bed next to him, then it all got rather hazy.

His hands and mouth were everywhere, exploring every inch of my body. I couldn't keep my hands off his gut, it was incredibly firm to the touch. The sex was fantastic, weeks of frustration building up to a climax that almost broke our bed.

Winded, we lay next to each other and tried to catch our breath. Our fattened forms lay there glistening and naked, fingers still tracing each others' contours.

"So, you really . . . find this . . . sexy?" I asked, still puffing a bit.

"You tell me," he grinned.

"Maybe you were . . . onto something . . . after all," I admitted. "Y'know . . . there are two pies down there still."

"Well what are we waiting for?" he asked. "Last one to the kitchen has to eat their pie with no fork!"


Thanksgiving was the much-needed climax of our little story. We were both a little embarrassed by how we had acted, but in the end it certainly seemed to work out well. I was as thrilled as could be, my beautiful wife was delectably plump and actually seemed happy about it. True, my own waistline had ballooned, but Laura really seemed to like it so I couldn't complain too much.

Needless to say, the holiday season didn't see our weight decrease at all. I'm sure we each went up at least on pant size by New Year's, but we certainly didn't mind. We worked out a bit of a system. There was no more tricking each other into eating or denying sex. We ate good-sized meals together, and occasionally we'd take turns being fed by the other.

One on occasion I had convinced Laura to start by putting on one of her exercise outfits and do one of her work-outs. I found it incredibly arousing to watch her jiggle around, her face turning pink as she struggled to get through 10 minutes or so. My favorite part was watching her try to do a sit-up. Her soft belly compressed into three sizable rolls as she strained just to get her shoulder blades a couple inches off the ground before flopping back with a sigh.

Then she ate a huge portion of fettucine alfredo and some heavily buttered bread, her stomach swelling out into a round ball by the time she finished. I also fed her some chocolate cake, although it was a struggle for her to get it into her tightly packed stomach.

And to her credit, she was really learning how to play it up. Maybe she did have a bit of feeder inside her as well, because she certainly knew how to push all the right buttons.

"Ooh baby," she moaned in soft, breathy voice. "Look at me, I'm so fat and stuffed I look pregnant."

She looked up at me, frosting from the chocolate cake still evident around her lips. She gingerly rubbed her incredibly puffed-up middle, the waistband of her spandex shorts pushed down beneath the curve of her bloated gut.

"You ate quite a bit," I agreed with a chuckle. "Ready to be done?"

"Are you going to help me up?" she asked, reaching both hands out to me.

I grabbed and pulled, and it was actually quite an effort to get her upright. We stood belly to belly for a moment, the space between us seeming to grow by the day.

"You keep feeding me at this rate, and pretty soon I'll be sticking out further in front than you. I've already had people ask me if I'm pregnant, it won't be long until they stop believing me when I say 'no'."

"Just pregnant with the world's biggest food baby," I teased.

She whacked me on the arm as she shuffled past me. I enjoyed walking behind her as we walked to the bedroom. Her tiny shorts couldn't contain her entire ass, her softly rounded cheeks peeking out. Squeezed by the snug waistband, tempting handfuls plump lovehandles oozed out. In the bedroom I quickly helped her out of her constricting clothes and into the bed.

I took my time exploring and praising every hill and valley of her delectably voluptuous form. My fingers slid over her full breasts, the firmly swollen dome of her belly, her spreading hips and thickening thighs. I enjoyed tasting every inch of her warm flesh, her quickened breathing and soft moans told me that she enjoyed it too. Finally finding entrance took some imagination these days, our combined bulk could sometimes make it a challenge.

But it was always worth it.


Of course, the flip side of this was that at times Laura got to act as the feeder. It surprised me a little how natural she seemed in the role. For someone who had to such lengths for so long to avoid getting fat, she sure seemed to have that feeder gene. For her it seemed to be about seeing me stuffed to immobility. She got a thrill about feeding me until even getting to my feet was a near impossibility.

One Saturday afternoon she walked into the living room with two large pizza boxes and a devious smile on her face. She placed them on the coffee table and opened them up to reveal two pizzas piled high with bacon, sausage, ham, meatballs and lots and lots of cheese.

"Hope you're hungry, these are both for you!" she grinned.

I hoped I was up to the challenge. As I took the first slice I couldn't believe how heavy it was, and I knew it would feel just as heavy after I ate it. Laura cheered me on as slice after slice disappeared down my gullet. After eating one full pizza I was feel quite stuffed. Laura just teased me and giggled as I undid my pants and stifled a belch.

"No quitting now, you're only halfway done," she smirked, patting my stomach.

I slogged through the second pizza, each bite becoming more difficult. It was so thick and heavy that it sat in my gut like a lead ball. I shifted on the couch, leaning forward and spreading my legs to let my throbbing stomach hang down. By the time the second pizza was halfway gone I was breaking out in a sweat and puffing for breath like I just finished a marathon. I was eating at a snail's pace, pausing after each bite to try to coax up a belch to relieve the tremendous pressure.

Finally, with just a slice and a half left, I couldn't force down another bite. I flopped backward on the couch, sitting in a semi-reclined position. My gorging session had caused my shirt to ride up all the way to my navel. I knew I must have been a ridiculous sight, laying almost prone with a huge, mountainous half-bare belly. Pregnant women had nothing on me.

Laura just smiled from ear to ear, reaching into her purse and bringing out her camera.

"Say cheese!" she chirped with glee.

Even the word made me groan out loud, causing her to giggle more. She took several pictures of me while I laid there helpless, a beached whale. It was almost three hours before I could get up and waddle ponderously to the bedroom. Even then I was barely active, only able to clumsily grope her bountiful breasts as she straddled me. Fortunately she had enough energy for the both of us.

So I guess it was no wonder that the number on the scale crept inexorably higher and higher.


I loved waking up on the weekends in a warm bed, sunlight beaming through our windows. I loved watching Alan struggle a bit like a turtle on his back as he tried to get out of bed, his ever growing gut always getting in his way. I loved watching him stretch, putting both hands against his lumbar region as he arched his back, his incredibly spherical belly sticking out so far. I loved seeing the way he looked at me as I laid there smiling back up at him.

I wasn't yet positive that I loved the way I grunted as I tried to sit up, my round belly stubbornly thwarting my efforts. I wasn't sure I loved the the feel of my plump tummy sitting on my soft thighs as I sat up. I wasn't sure I loved the way I had to adjust my panties each morning, as my growing ass tried to eat them.

But I didn't hate it anymore, and that was important. There were times I still got mildly annoyed at something, and increasingly rare situations where I'd freak out about the number on the scale or the size tag on my pants. Alan was always there, however, loving me and encouraging me to love myself. There are even days now where I can call my pot belly "cute", or admire the curves of my lower body.

Sometimes I laugh to myself as I think back to our silly struggles for control. The way we tried to control each other, and even the way we tried to control ourselves. It's a big hurdle in marriage to let go of control. Once you do, once you really start to trust, I think you can learn something wonderful about the person you married . . . and even about yourself.

I thought about these things as I showered, soaping up my soft, curvaceous form. In a way, each pound was a sign of my trust in Alan, a sign of surrender, a sign of knowing I was enjoyed. To others, we were probably just another couple who relaxed and starting letting ourselves go once we were married and comfortable. To us, however, it was so very much more . . .

I squealed as the shower curtain was suddenly ripped aside. Alan stood there, just as naked as I, a smile on his lips and hunger in his eyes.

"Room for one more?" he asked.

"Always," I said.

I smiled as I pulled him in, the warm spray cascading over our bodies . . .

The End.
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Old 08-01-2011, 02:24 PM   #5
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I'm sorry it ended, I really enjoyed that! great stuff
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Old 08-01-2011, 05:00 PM   #6
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dark_star_watcher has said some nice things

awesome best one i have readv in a long time
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Old 08-02-2011, 06:22 PM   #7
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Originally Posted by Ssaylleb View Post
I'm sorry it ended, I really enjoyed that! great stuff
Originally Posted by dark_star_watcher View Post
awesome best one i have readv in a long time
Thanks! I'm really glad you enjoyed the story. I have several more that I hope to post in the relatively near future.
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Old 08-16-2011, 03:58 PM   #8
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A great little story and I look forward to reading more!
Seeing beauty in big women since 1968
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Old 05-07-2012, 03:19 AM   #9
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oh that was so perfect and such lovely characters i wished this would happen to me ^^ i like this control kind of competition both got into ;-) hehe
although i would love some more teasing i hope you write much more !!!

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Old 05-08-2012, 02:14 PM   #10
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Originally Posted by otherland78 View Post
oh that was so perfect and such lovely characters i wished this would happen to me ^^ i like this control kind of competition both got into ;-) hehe
although i would love some more teasing i hope you write much more !!!

Thanks! Really glad you enjoyed it. I should try to import a few more stories from my Deviantart page.
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Old 06-05-2015, 06:33 AM   #11
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JimBob can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokesJimBob can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokesJimBob can now be the recipient of "two cans" jokes

This was one of the cleverest (and hottest) stories I've ever read on Dims. Kudos to you, good sir or madam. Hearty kudos.

Do definitely follow up on that idea of posting some of your other works - they'd be gladly received!
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