~BBW/~BHM, Eating, Imagery, Romance, ~SWG – two views of a blooming relationship
[Editor’s note – this is the same story from two points of view, a gaining hubby and an adoring FFA wife with a growing physique of her own, as written by a male/ female duo and reposted with their permission from FantasyFeeder.com. Not every scene is the same, but for optimal enjoyment watch for the crossovers]
Part One – His POV ( by Dale Cooper)
===“A husband finds that putting on a few pounds might not be such a bad thing after all...”===
"Wow. I gotta stop putting these things in the dryer."
I'm not prone to talking to myself, but the fact that my jeans actually seemed tight was... interesting.
I turned to look at myself in the mirror. For a normally athletic guy, I was starting to look a little soft around the middle. The tiniest little bit of flesh poked out on either side - could those possibly be the start of some ... love handles? I was fascinated by them - poke, poke, poke. Yep – they were real.
“I'm gonna have to cut back on the beer a little bit,” I thought.
I ran my hand down my belly and then grabbed it. It was slightly cool, and I was able to squeeze a lot more of it than I thought I could.
“Those extra donuts in the morning are going to have to go, too,” I concluded. “This belly is getting out of control.”
I sucked in the gut a bit, and it complied.
“Good,” I thought.” I can still pass for "in shape" if I need to. Next week I'll get back into the gym and I'll have this extra weight off in no time.”
I left my shirt untucked and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
My beautiful wife was sitting at the table, reading a book. She looked up from her reading as I entered the room.
"Hey, cutie," she cooed. "Good morning."
"Mornin', sunshine. How's the book?"
"Great. Who'd think that Nixon was such a deep guy?"
I smiled as I sat down with her. "Not a crook, eh?"
"Oh... still a crook. But maybe a crook with a conscience?"
I loved her intellect - she was a rabid history buff and had just recently picked up a book on the Nixon/Mao meeting. She was even sexier when she was being brainy.
"How about... I make you some breakfast?"
"Sure," I replied quickly. She had recently starting a cooking kick and was actually getting pretty good. After working as the family cook for the first few years of our relationship, it was nice to get a little time off.
"How about some Belgian waffles? I saw a recipe earlier this week in Southern Living and it looked to-die-for."
"Bring it on, girl."
She laughed. Man, how I loved that little laugh of hers. Even after all of our time together, I still yearned for those moments when I could get her to chuckle. Bonus points for full out guffaws...
We spent a while conversing as I watched her dive into her recipe. It wasn't long before I realized that we were having more than just waffles, though. Bacon and sausage suddenly found their way onto a griddle, and as we started discussing the day's plans, she placed a buttered muffin on a plate in front of me.
"Wait a minute," I said. "Aren't we having waffles?"
"I just thought you might want this while you were waiting. The waffles won't be done until after the bacon - I wasn't sure how hungry you were."
“Ah well,” I thought. “The diet DEFINITELY starts next week.”
"Thanks, babe. You're the best." I replied as I took a bite.
It was delicious - an apple muffin... warm and slightly soft. The butter hadn't fully melted, and it mixed with the cinnamon sugar topping on the muffin to give a sweet crystal crunch as I chewed. So good... Mmmnnnnn...
"Enjoying the muffin, are you?" She was smiling as she snapped me out of my trance. I may have blushed.
"Finish up quick - these waffles are just about ready to go."
I finished the muffin off with a large bite and set the plates out on the table. We loved to have music playing as we ate in the morning, so I traveled out to our dining room cabinet and queued up one of our favorite playlists.
When I returned to the kitchen, I was greeted by a massive stack of waffles, a side plate of bacon and sausage, some juice... and another apple muffin on the side.
"Wow," I said, surveying the scene. "Looks great, babe."
Inside, I was simultaneously horrified and excited to sit down to this much food. It was easily enough to feed three adults, maybe four. Could I possibly eat this much in one sitting?
"Thanks. I'm happy with 'em." She generously slathered some whipped cream onto her waffles. I was immediately aroused as she began eating her own mighty portions - her cooking was definitely having an effect on HER waistline, too. Her once skinny frame had softened, and she was starting to sport the tiniest little hint of a pot-belly. I imagined what she'd look like if she got bigger - wide hips, a full, fat rear, and a big soft belly. It was hard to imagine, given that she'd always been so lean, but she was enjoying this food as much as I was.
The waffles WERE to-die-for. So moist, so buttery. The cream complimented them; not too heavy, but added just a slightly different sweetness as the calories poured down my throat. The bacon was crisp and salty, and complemented the sweet waffles so well... I briefly paused to stealthily unbutton my pants, and my bloated belly reached out and filled in the extra space.
Her giggle caught me off guard.
"Those pants getting a bit snug, mister?" She winked at me - I realized that I might not have been as stealthy as I thought.
"Uh... guess so," was all I could muster.
She licked her lips. "You know, I really like the fact that you're enjoying my cooking. It makes me feel good to know that I'm making you happy."
"Babe, your cooking is the best. Seriously - you put so much time into it, and everything tastes so good."
"Well," she replied. "You keep up that good eating, and I'll keep up this good cooking, okay?"
I was getting really hot now.
She took her time with the next line.
"I kinda like fattening you up a bit," she said. "And besides, I can't get all chunky by myself."
At that moment, our journey began.
*********
The weekend seemed to pass by as quickly as it had started. I found myself cursing as the morning alarm blared in my ear. I quickly switched it to "off" and rose out of bed to get in the shower.
The water felt good and hot. After a good morning rinse, I shaved and finished my morning routine - brush teeth, brush hair, armpits, and a little cologne to keep my wife thoroughly romanced.
She was still sleeping when I exited the bathroom, and I snuggled in behind her to kiss her good morning.
"Mmnnn..." was all she could muster. A quick kiss on the cheek and I headed into the closet.
I picked out my favorite "power" outfit - a stark blue shirt with a pair of nice khakis. As I slipped the first leg on, I immediately noticed that something felt odd. After getting the other leg in, I attempted to button the pants.
Wow.
The button wouldn't snap.
I re-tucked my shirt in - clearly it must be the extra layer of shirt and my t-shirt below it. The second try didn't fare any better. Where once these pants buttoned seamlessly against my toned belly, there now stood a firm little pudge of fat that insisted I needed some more food in it.
I sucked it in and really pulled together, and with that... the pants buttoned. I exhaled, and miraculously they stayed that way.
Cursing myself for that extra helping of potatoes the night before, I tucked my shirt in and put on my belt.
The belt didn't lie, either. Where I had used to slide the buckle onto the very first hole, the belt now needed two more holes to close over - my gut was inching out, slowly but surely.
I stood there for a minute, weighing my options. The pants were buttoned, but man, it was pretty uncomfortable. Realizing that I wasn't going to be comfortable in them for a full 8 hours, I switched up to my "relaxed fit" pants and left the closet.
You can imagine my horror when they were a bit snug, too.
"'Mornin', cutie." My wife surprised me from behind. She was clearly still foggy from sleep, and was wearing a cute terry-cloth bathrobe that I'd given to her for Christmas two years ago. It was obviously less loose than originally.
I'm not sure if it was my red cheeks, or the hurried way I moved past her from the closet - she could tell, though, that something was up.
"What's wrong, baby?"
"Um... I really need to get back into the gym, I think."
"Why?"
"These pants?"
She smiled sleepily as she checked me up and down. "What's the matter with them? They look great on you."
"Yeah. These are the 'relaxed' fit."
I could see the minor calculation cross her face.
"Oh," was all she could muster.
"Well, your wardrobe has been needing an update for a while, now. How about we meet at the mall later this week and we can pick a few new items out?"
I was running late.
"Sure," I replied quickly. I was a bit embarrassed, but I didn't have the time to get into a discussion of my insecurities.
I kissed her goodbye, finished getting ready and grabbed my keys and my jacket. I ran out to the car, pausing for just a moment to look back and blow her a kiss. She always waved from the window - it was our "thing".
I got into the car and put the car in reverse. As I turned to look back down the driveway, I noticed that my belly felt soft and a bit jiggly up against my seatbelt. I put my hand on it for a second, sizing it up. It hung over the lap belt just a tiny little bit - this was DEFINITELY a new development.
No doubt about it, I thought as I shook my head and put the car in drive... I am getting FAT.
I pulled into the parking lot of the office at my usual 7:30. I'd been arriving early for over a year now, and part of my routine involved stopping at the little coffee shop in my office building's development to pick up some coffee. Of course, in the past year I'd added a bagel or some other type of breakfast item - recently I'd been having coffee cake and the occasional pastry. I'd justified it by reasoning that the extra sugar helped keep my energy up throughout the morning.
However, the tight belt digging into my waist reminded me that those days were over. Or should be.
"Hi, Lis," I said to the barista as I walked up to the counter. Lisa was one of my favorites - not only because she was so personable and funny, but because she also was incredibly passionate about film and art. She also knew I was happily married, and had perfected the fine art of "platonic flirtation" with me. We always kept it light and fun, and our brief conversations usually left me smiling.
"Hey!" she replied with a grin. "Lemme guess - regular medium, cream and sugar."
I rubbed my chin. "I'll definitely go with the medium. However... ahhh... make it with skim today. And maybe some Splenda?"
She paused for the briefest second and then looked up. "I'm sorry... did you just say 'Skim' and 'Splenda'?"
"I know, I know..." I weakly countered.
"You know I can't let you ruin this delicious and perfectly good coffee with skim milk and SPLENDA, right?" She smiled. "I don't think we even HAVE skim milk in here."
We both knew she was full of it - the skim milk carton was sitting right in front of her.
"I'm turning over a new leaf, Lis. I can't keep going full throttle forever."
She leaned back, putting her hands on her hips.
"Full throttle, eh?" She laughed, and then shook her head. "Okay, Mr. Full Throttle - skim milk it is. But you'll have to splenderize this thing yourself - I cannot be an accomplice to murder."
She wrinkled her nose and smiled as she rang up the bill at the register.
"Nothing else with that, then? No taste-free rice cakes or frozen oatmeal on the side?" she asked.
I grinned. "Nah. Sorry."
She moved over to the pastry counter. "It's an awful shame - I have one last Apple Bear claw on the shelf. It's all alone, and would really love to be your buddy."
She lifted a giant, sugary pastry off of its resting place and held it out to me. The warm-baked cinnamon smell wafted toward my nose.
You know, it's very strange. In the span of a split second, I had a mini argument with myself. One side tried to argue about how embarrassed I felt this morning, and reminded me of the pudgy belly that was really starting to blossom.
The other part of me, though, REALLY wanted that apple bear claw. I wanted to bite that frosting and feel it crunch ever-so-slightly in my mouth - sugar crystals and butter and flaky cake. And man... that warm, cinnamon, apple filling...
I actually salivated.
"Okay - fine." I told her. "I'm a sucker for orphans. Put it in the bag."
"Yay!" she squealed. She actually clapped, which made me feel like a hero somehow.
We spoke for a few more minutes about the most recent Coen Brothers film, and then I headed out the door.
******************
Transitions
Dale Cooper/Jenny Wren
Dale Cooper/Jenny Wren
[Editor’s note – this is the same story from two points of view, a gaining hubby and an adoring FFA wife with a growing physique of her own, as written by a male/ female duo and reposted with their permission from FantasyFeeder.com. Not every scene is the same, but for optimal enjoyment watch for the crossovers]
Part One – His POV ( by Dale Cooper)
===“A husband finds that putting on a few pounds might not be such a bad thing after all...”===
"Wow. I gotta stop putting these things in the dryer."
I'm not prone to talking to myself, but the fact that my jeans actually seemed tight was... interesting.
I turned to look at myself in the mirror. For a normally athletic guy, I was starting to look a little soft around the middle. The tiniest little bit of flesh poked out on either side - could those possibly be the start of some ... love handles? I was fascinated by them - poke, poke, poke. Yep – they were real.
“I'm gonna have to cut back on the beer a little bit,” I thought.
I ran my hand down my belly and then grabbed it. It was slightly cool, and I was able to squeeze a lot more of it than I thought I could.
“Those extra donuts in the morning are going to have to go, too,” I concluded. “This belly is getting out of control.”
I sucked in the gut a bit, and it complied.
“Good,” I thought.” I can still pass for "in shape" if I need to. Next week I'll get back into the gym and I'll have this extra weight off in no time.”
I left my shirt untucked and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
My beautiful wife was sitting at the table, reading a book. She looked up from her reading as I entered the room.
"Hey, cutie," she cooed. "Good morning."
"Mornin', sunshine. How's the book?"
"Great. Who'd think that Nixon was such a deep guy?"
I smiled as I sat down with her. "Not a crook, eh?"
"Oh... still a crook. But maybe a crook with a conscience?"
I loved her intellect - she was a rabid history buff and had just recently picked up a book on the Nixon/Mao meeting. She was even sexier when she was being brainy.
"How about... I make you some breakfast?"
"Sure," I replied quickly. She had recently starting a cooking kick and was actually getting pretty good. After working as the family cook for the first few years of our relationship, it was nice to get a little time off.
"How about some Belgian waffles? I saw a recipe earlier this week in Southern Living and it looked to-die-for."
"Bring it on, girl."
She laughed. Man, how I loved that little laugh of hers. Even after all of our time together, I still yearned for those moments when I could get her to chuckle. Bonus points for full out guffaws...
We spent a while conversing as I watched her dive into her recipe. It wasn't long before I realized that we were having more than just waffles, though. Bacon and sausage suddenly found their way onto a griddle, and as we started discussing the day's plans, she placed a buttered muffin on a plate in front of me.
"Wait a minute," I said. "Aren't we having waffles?"
"I just thought you might want this while you were waiting. The waffles won't be done until after the bacon - I wasn't sure how hungry you were."
“Ah well,” I thought. “The diet DEFINITELY starts next week.”
"Thanks, babe. You're the best." I replied as I took a bite.
It was delicious - an apple muffin... warm and slightly soft. The butter hadn't fully melted, and it mixed with the cinnamon sugar topping on the muffin to give a sweet crystal crunch as I chewed. So good... Mmmnnnnn...
"Enjoying the muffin, are you?" She was smiling as she snapped me out of my trance. I may have blushed.
"Finish up quick - these waffles are just about ready to go."
I finished the muffin off with a large bite and set the plates out on the table. We loved to have music playing as we ate in the morning, so I traveled out to our dining room cabinet and queued up one of our favorite playlists.
When I returned to the kitchen, I was greeted by a massive stack of waffles, a side plate of bacon and sausage, some juice... and another apple muffin on the side.
"Wow," I said, surveying the scene. "Looks great, babe."
Inside, I was simultaneously horrified and excited to sit down to this much food. It was easily enough to feed three adults, maybe four. Could I possibly eat this much in one sitting?
"Thanks. I'm happy with 'em." She generously slathered some whipped cream onto her waffles. I was immediately aroused as she began eating her own mighty portions - her cooking was definitely having an effect on HER waistline, too. Her once skinny frame had softened, and she was starting to sport the tiniest little hint of a pot-belly. I imagined what she'd look like if she got bigger - wide hips, a full, fat rear, and a big soft belly. It was hard to imagine, given that she'd always been so lean, but she was enjoying this food as much as I was.
The waffles WERE to-die-for. So moist, so buttery. The cream complimented them; not too heavy, but added just a slightly different sweetness as the calories poured down my throat. The bacon was crisp and salty, and complemented the sweet waffles so well... I briefly paused to stealthily unbutton my pants, and my bloated belly reached out and filled in the extra space.
Her giggle caught me off guard.
"Those pants getting a bit snug, mister?" She winked at me - I realized that I might not have been as stealthy as I thought.
"Uh... guess so," was all I could muster.
She licked her lips. "You know, I really like the fact that you're enjoying my cooking. It makes me feel good to know that I'm making you happy."
"Babe, your cooking is the best. Seriously - you put so much time into it, and everything tastes so good."
"Well," she replied. "You keep up that good eating, and I'll keep up this good cooking, okay?"
I was getting really hot now.
She took her time with the next line.
"I kinda like fattening you up a bit," she said. "And besides, I can't get all chunky by myself."
At that moment, our journey began.
*********
The weekend seemed to pass by as quickly as it had started. I found myself cursing as the morning alarm blared in my ear. I quickly switched it to "off" and rose out of bed to get in the shower.
The water felt good and hot. After a good morning rinse, I shaved and finished my morning routine - brush teeth, brush hair, armpits, and a little cologne to keep my wife thoroughly romanced.
She was still sleeping when I exited the bathroom, and I snuggled in behind her to kiss her good morning.
"Mmnnn..." was all she could muster. A quick kiss on the cheek and I headed into the closet.
I picked out my favorite "power" outfit - a stark blue shirt with a pair of nice khakis. As I slipped the first leg on, I immediately noticed that something felt odd. After getting the other leg in, I attempted to button the pants.
Wow.
The button wouldn't snap.
I re-tucked my shirt in - clearly it must be the extra layer of shirt and my t-shirt below it. The second try didn't fare any better. Where once these pants buttoned seamlessly against my toned belly, there now stood a firm little pudge of fat that insisted I needed some more food in it.
I sucked it in and really pulled together, and with that... the pants buttoned. I exhaled, and miraculously they stayed that way.
Cursing myself for that extra helping of potatoes the night before, I tucked my shirt in and put on my belt.
The belt didn't lie, either. Where I had used to slide the buckle onto the very first hole, the belt now needed two more holes to close over - my gut was inching out, slowly but surely.
I stood there for a minute, weighing my options. The pants were buttoned, but man, it was pretty uncomfortable. Realizing that I wasn't going to be comfortable in them for a full 8 hours, I switched up to my "relaxed fit" pants and left the closet.
You can imagine my horror when they were a bit snug, too.
"'Mornin', cutie." My wife surprised me from behind. She was clearly still foggy from sleep, and was wearing a cute terry-cloth bathrobe that I'd given to her for Christmas two years ago. It was obviously less loose than originally.
I'm not sure if it was my red cheeks, or the hurried way I moved past her from the closet - she could tell, though, that something was up.
"What's wrong, baby?"
"Um... I really need to get back into the gym, I think."
"Why?"
"These pants?"
She smiled sleepily as she checked me up and down. "What's the matter with them? They look great on you."
"Yeah. These are the 'relaxed' fit."
I could see the minor calculation cross her face.
"Oh," was all she could muster.
"Well, your wardrobe has been needing an update for a while, now. How about we meet at the mall later this week and we can pick a few new items out?"
I was running late.
"Sure," I replied quickly. I was a bit embarrassed, but I didn't have the time to get into a discussion of my insecurities.
I kissed her goodbye, finished getting ready and grabbed my keys and my jacket. I ran out to the car, pausing for just a moment to look back and blow her a kiss. She always waved from the window - it was our "thing".
I got into the car and put the car in reverse. As I turned to look back down the driveway, I noticed that my belly felt soft and a bit jiggly up against my seatbelt. I put my hand on it for a second, sizing it up. It hung over the lap belt just a tiny little bit - this was DEFINITELY a new development.
No doubt about it, I thought as I shook my head and put the car in drive... I am getting FAT.
I pulled into the parking lot of the office at my usual 7:30. I'd been arriving early for over a year now, and part of my routine involved stopping at the little coffee shop in my office building's development to pick up some coffee. Of course, in the past year I'd added a bagel or some other type of breakfast item - recently I'd been having coffee cake and the occasional pastry. I'd justified it by reasoning that the extra sugar helped keep my energy up throughout the morning.
However, the tight belt digging into my waist reminded me that those days were over. Or should be.
"Hi, Lis," I said to the barista as I walked up to the counter. Lisa was one of my favorites - not only because she was so personable and funny, but because she also was incredibly passionate about film and art. She also knew I was happily married, and had perfected the fine art of "platonic flirtation" with me. We always kept it light and fun, and our brief conversations usually left me smiling.
"Hey!" she replied with a grin. "Lemme guess - regular medium, cream and sugar."
I rubbed my chin. "I'll definitely go with the medium. However... ahhh... make it with skim today. And maybe some Splenda?"
She paused for the briefest second and then looked up. "I'm sorry... did you just say 'Skim' and 'Splenda'?"
"I know, I know..." I weakly countered.
"You know I can't let you ruin this delicious and perfectly good coffee with skim milk and SPLENDA, right?" She smiled. "I don't think we even HAVE skim milk in here."
We both knew she was full of it - the skim milk carton was sitting right in front of her.
"I'm turning over a new leaf, Lis. I can't keep going full throttle forever."
She leaned back, putting her hands on her hips.
"Full throttle, eh?" She laughed, and then shook her head. "Okay, Mr. Full Throttle - skim milk it is. But you'll have to splenderize this thing yourself - I cannot be an accomplice to murder."
She wrinkled her nose and smiled as she rang up the bill at the register.
"Nothing else with that, then? No taste-free rice cakes or frozen oatmeal on the side?" she asked.
I grinned. "Nah. Sorry."
She moved over to the pastry counter. "It's an awful shame - I have one last Apple Bear claw on the shelf. It's all alone, and would really love to be your buddy."
She lifted a giant, sugary pastry off of its resting place and held it out to me. The warm-baked cinnamon smell wafted toward my nose.
You know, it's very strange. In the span of a split second, I had a mini argument with myself. One side tried to argue about how embarrassed I felt this morning, and reminded me of the pudgy belly that was really starting to blossom.
The other part of me, though, REALLY wanted that apple bear claw. I wanted to bite that frosting and feel it crunch ever-so-slightly in my mouth - sugar crystals and butter and flaky cake. And man... that warm, cinnamon, apple filling...
I actually salivated.
"Okay - fine." I told her. "I'm a sucker for orphans. Put it in the bag."
"Yay!" she squealed. She actually clapped, which made me feel like a hero somehow.
We spoke for a few more minutes about the most recent Coen Brothers film, and then I headed out the door.
******************
