[First time posting! I hope I'm doing this right. 
]
I grabbed the last cold soda. Hadn't I just restocked the fridge? Oh well. I turned away, leaving the refrigerator door open as I bent down for another six pack of coke.
My pajama shorts pulled tight as I bent over and then I felt a sudden snap and they relaxed. Reaching behind, I confirmed - my butt had torn out the center seam. Setting the sodas into the fridge to cool, I stood and reached behind me. I knew I was putting on weight - it was unavoidable when you've got a whole house full of people reminding you that you're not supposed to stress yourself at all - but my husband and the others on the team were doing their best to keep me from knowing how much. There were no full-size mirrors in the house anymore, only the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and most of the scales had disappeared.
The only way to know how big my butt had gotten was to bust out of my clothes. I pressed my fingers into the soft bulk of my butt, surprised by how long it took just to touch all of it. No wonder the couch cushions were looking so worn, holding all of that up every day.
"Lucy?"
Wow, I probably looked like a weirdo, feeling my butt in the kitchen by myself. "I think I need bigger pajamas again, hun." I turned around to show him the gap in the back.
"Guess so." He walked up behind me, sliding his hand over the expanse of my butt and giving me a squeeze. "I'm glad you're taking such good care of yourself."
I looked guiltily over at the counter where my snack was waiting - a pint of butter pecan ice cream, a can of whipped cream, a whole bag of dill pickle chips and that last cold soda. I wasn't sure how this qualified as good care.
"Do you need a hand with that?" he asked, tucking the chips under his arm and picking up the other items, even remembering to grab a spoon.
"Thanks," I said, embarassed, as he followed me back to the living room. Normally I sat on the loveseat, but I chose the couch instead, aware that there probably wasn't room for him to sit next to me comfortably on the two-person seat. Before I sat, I wriggled out of the tight shorts, dropping onto the couch in nothing but my panties and the maternity top. It too was getting too small - a large half-moon of stomach hung out of the bottom - but it was tight enough to keep my heavy breasts from moving too much. I needed a new bra, too.
He opened everything for me, even spraying a large swirl of whipped cream onto the pint of ice cream and handing me the spoon. "You can call me to get things for you, Lucy. You don't have to overtax yourself."
"Overtax myself?" I laughed anxiously. "If I can't even walk ten feet into the kitchen I'll be even fatter!"
"Now we talked about this attitude," he said, sitting beside me. He held the ice cream in his hands. "I don't want you worrying about your weight. You may still have to go on bedrest, and you're stressed enough as it is."
"These were XL maternity pajamas!" I said, exasperated, "and I still have two months left!"
"So we'll get you XXL," he answered, and put a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth.
I swallowed. It tasted amazing, and also reminded me that I was ravenously hungry. "Better make it triple x," I told him as he raised another spoonful to my lips. "Don't want to outgrow them too fast."
I closed my eyes as he fed me. The ice cream was just softening, and all I had to do was sit there with my mouth open and swallow, a strange kind of helplessness. I was even more aware than usual of the spread of my butt as I sat, the way my hips reached across a second cushion. I thought about the way my heavy, round belly sat between my legs, forcing them apart if I wanted to sit comfortably. I realize I'd started rubbing my belly, pushing the too-small shirt up even further. The whole swell of my stomach was uncovered now.
"Last one," my husband said, just as I started to feel comfortably full.
"What?" I asked, just he stuffed the spoon in my mouth. I swallowed and repeated myself.
He held up the empty ice cream container.
"I ate all of that?"
"You did great."
I rubbed my belly again, very aware of how much space it took up in my arms. "How am I still so hungry, then?" I wasn't sure if I was asking myself or him.
"Open up, hun," he prompted, and when I did, he held the whipped cream container directly over my mouth. Letting it spray in, the thick, cool cream quickly filled my mouth. When he didn't stop, I was forced to swallow as much as I could to make room. I was all but sucking on the container, swallow after swallow as he filled me.
The container sputtered, empty. I, on the other hand, was full.
My husband kissed my swollen belly and stood. "Well, better start on dinner for you!" He disappeared into the kitchen and I dozed on the couch, too full to do any snacking while I waited for dinner.
Well, maybe I'd just have one chip...
THE END
]Cravings
by 0031
by 0031
I grabbed the last cold soda. Hadn't I just restocked the fridge? Oh well. I turned away, leaving the refrigerator door open as I bent down for another six pack of coke.
My pajama shorts pulled tight as I bent over and then I felt a sudden snap and they relaxed. Reaching behind, I confirmed - my butt had torn out the center seam. Setting the sodas into the fridge to cool, I stood and reached behind me. I knew I was putting on weight - it was unavoidable when you've got a whole house full of people reminding you that you're not supposed to stress yourself at all - but my husband and the others on the team were doing their best to keep me from knowing how much. There were no full-size mirrors in the house anymore, only the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and most of the scales had disappeared.
The only way to know how big my butt had gotten was to bust out of my clothes. I pressed my fingers into the soft bulk of my butt, surprised by how long it took just to touch all of it. No wonder the couch cushions were looking so worn, holding all of that up every day.
"Lucy?"
Wow, I probably looked like a weirdo, feeling my butt in the kitchen by myself. "I think I need bigger pajamas again, hun." I turned around to show him the gap in the back.
"Guess so." He walked up behind me, sliding his hand over the expanse of my butt and giving me a squeeze. "I'm glad you're taking such good care of yourself."
I looked guiltily over at the counter where my snack was waiting - a pint of butter pecan ice cream, a can of whipped cream, a whole bag of dill pickle chips and that last cold soda. I wasn't sure how this qualified as good care.
"Do you need a hand with that?" he asked, tucking the chips under his arm and picking up the other items, even remembering to grab a spoon.
"Thanks," I said, embarassed, as he followed me back to the living room. Normally I sat on the loveseat, but I chose the couch instead, aware that there probably wasn't room for him to sit next to me comfortably on the two-person seat. Before I sat, I wriggled out of the tight shorts, dropping onto the couch in nothing but my panties and the maternity top. It too was getting too small - a large half-moon of stomach hung out of the bottom - but it was tight enough to keep my heavy breasts from moving too much. I needed a new bra, too.
He opened everything for me, even spraying a large swirl of whipped cream onto the pint of ice cream and handing me the spoon. "You can call me to get things for you, Lucy. You don't have to overtax yourself."
"Overtax myself?" I laughed anxiously. "If I can't even walk ten feet into the kitchen I'll be even fatter!"
"Now we talked about this attitude," he said, sitting beside me. He held the ice cream in his hands. "I don't want you worrying about your weight. You may still have to go on bedrest, and you're stressed enough as it is."
"These were XL maternity pajamas!" I said, exasperated, "and I still have two months left!"
"So we'll get you XXL," he answered, and put a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth.
I swallowed. It tasted amazing, and also reminded me that I was ravenously hungry. "Better make it triple x," I told him as he raised another spoonful to my lips. "Don't want to outgrow them too fast."
I closed my eyes as he fed me. The ice cream was just softening, and all I had to do was sit there with my mouth open and swallow, a strange kind of helplessness. I was even more aware than usual of the spread of my butt as I sat, the way my hips reached across a second cushion. I thought about the way my heavy, round belly sat between my legs, forcing them apart if I wanted to sit comfortably. I realize I'd started rubbing my belly, pushing the too-small shirt up even further. The whole swell of my stomach was uncovered now.
"Last one," my husband said, just as I started to feel comfortably full.
"What?" I asked, just he stuffed the spoon in my mouth. I swallowed and repeated myself.
He held up the empty ice cream container.
"I ate all of that?"
"You did great."
I rubbed my belly again, very aware of how much space it took up in my arms. "How am I still so hungry, then?" I wasn't sure if I was asking myself or him.
"Open up, hun," he prompted, and when I did, he held the whipped cream container directly over my mouth. Letting it spray in, the thick, cool cream quickly filled my mouth. When he didn't stop, I was forced to swallow as much as I could to make room. I was all but sucking on the container, swallow after swallow as he filled me.
The container sputtered, empty. I, on the other hand, was full.
My husband kissed my swollen belly and stood. "Well, better start on dinner for you!" He disappeared into the kitchen and I dozed on the couch, too full to do any snacking while I waited for dinner.
Well, maybe I'd just have one chip...
THE END
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