Chapter 13

****Laura****

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.