chapter 1

'Here,' she said, as she grabbed the tape from his hand. 'Let me help.'

'We all put on a little as we age,' she lied.

Her words sought to comfort - but it was obvious - her husband had gotten fat.

'Hold up your shirt.' He did as he was told and she raised her eyebrows.

'Come on,' she said. 'Let it all out now. I know you're hiding much more than that.'

He looked at her suspiciously, then relaxed.

'There,' she said, 'that's better.' And she wrapped the tape around him until the two ends met.

'Thirty ...,' she paused a little for effect.

'Thirty what?' he snapped. 'Spit it out.'

He straightened, as though his fate was not sealed.

'Thirty eight,' she confirmed, locking her finger on the tape and presenting the number to his face.

'Almost, a thirty-nine,' she said, with a wry smile.

'No,' he said. 'That can't be right.'

He grabbed the tape from her hand and measured for himself.

'Shit!' he swore, as he saw the number.

'How did I get so fat?'

It was obvious, but she didn't let on

'I've always been a thirty-two,' he added, looking confused.

He was lying. He had always been a thirty-two, until she moved in. And things had changed since then. Like the pants in his laundry basket. And a little positive encouragement towards seconds or even thirds of dessert.

'Relax,' she said, in a comforting voice. 'This chubby tum's just so cute.'

She prodded his belly with her index finger. 'I never knew you were hiding so much from me under your shirt.'

'Quit that.' He swatted her hand away.

'I'm not chubby.'

'You are a little plump,' she reasoned, as she grabbed a hold of his waistband and tried to close his pants.

'I always knew you liked my cooking,' she said, and smiled as the buttons didn't come close. 'Perhaps a little too much!'

'Gimme that,' he said angrily, as she giggled to herself.

He stepped back. And took in a deep breath. But no matter how hard he tried. How much he dipped and tucked, he could not get them shut. To a woman of her proclivities, it was quite a sight. She sat down on the bed, overcome. The more he struggled, the more her excitement grew.

'Stop it!' he said, as she giggled again. 'It's not funny!'

'But it is,' she thought to herself.

'Fuck it!! ...,' as he finally gave up. 'There's something wrong with these pants.'

About fifteen pounds, was her guess. She waited intently for the penny to drop.

He looked down at his belly. 'It's the beer,' he said, with some reluctance in his voice. 'I'm drinking too much.'

'Yes,' she agreed, with a nod. 'It's all that beer's fault.'

'And the snacks,' she thought, but didn't let on.

'Quit buying so many,' he said.

'What?' she said. 'Snacks?'

'No,' he patted his beer belly. 'Beer.'

'One case a week is more than enough.'

She eyed his gut. He was probably right. Besides, what she didn't buy in beer, she could always buy in snacks. And the way he devoured those after a single beer was a sight to behold; and one she would not give up.

'Yes Sir!' She gave him a mock-salute. 'No more than a case a week.' She had to give him the impression he was still in control.

He looked at her puzzled.

'Good,' he said. 'I think. And we'll get to the gym.'

He had some front. She looked down at her waist, there was barely a pound to spare.

He gave his pants one last attempt. She walked over and kissed him on the cheek.

'Let it go,' she whispered, as she began to shower him with affection. 'I'll pick you up some new pairs on my way home.'

The pants were always 'new', never 'larger'. And thrown off by the scent, he never thought to protest. New pants would become the norm from now on.

She looked down at his belly, arrogantly mocking gravity over his waistband. A few more pounds, and it would start to hang.

She pressed on his shoulders. 'Come on,' she said, 'let's lie you back and try.'

She felled him like a tree onto the bed. It was merely an excuse to straddle him quick, which she did as first chance.

And hand in hand, her on top, they both struggled with his pants. But the buttons looked further apart than before. She decided she would buy a forty-two later, because she knew his appetite now needed that room to grow.

After one last try, he dropped his head back and gave up.

'It's no use,' he said. 'I must've put on a few this month.'

Finally, a little admission of guilt, at last. One day, she'd make him confess he'd lost all control.

'I'm glad,' she said, smiling sweetly at him, as she felt the heat build between her legs. 'They don't fit.'

She rocked her hips gently. 'Because I want you outta them.'

'Real fast.'

'You do?' he raised an eyebrow.

'Uh-huh,' she replied, with a grin.

She took off her top, she was bra-less beneath. His eyes opened wide. He grabbed her hips and she felt his appetite begin to grow.

'Careful,' he said, as he squeezed her ass, and bucked at his hips. 'With talk like that.'

'Don't you know I always get what I want?'

Without hesitation, she placed her hands on his belly. 'That much I can tell,' she said, with a smile.

She rose to her knees and pulled off his pants. She took off her leggings and panties too. By the time they were naked, he was ready to go. She toyed with him a little, before taking her seat. He moaned as she took him in between her legs. The same moan he made when he overate, which was nightly of late.

As his want grew, his hips began to buck. She rode each wave as they came, and reached up to un-clip her hair. It fell invitingly onto her breasts. She grabbed a hold of his gut, and squeezed the fresh pounds in her hands. His tide might be rising, but his waves were falling fast. So plump and out of shape, he was clearly working hard beneath her. She began to bail him out with her hips, reeling him in like a fish.

His gut shook heavily between her legs and she tightened herself harder around him. His toes curled as sweet whispers began to escape his lips. Grabbing his gut again, she got close, but stepped back a little from the edge. She leant in for a kiss, that was heavy and hot.

'Don't come just yet,' she whispered.

'I want you to finish on top.'

And with that, she rolled onto her back.

Quickly, he got up over her on all fours.

'Wasn't I up here before?' he thought.

It must have been clear from his face.

'I know,' she said.

'But you could do with the exercise, ...'

She patted his belly.

'Given you can't fit in your pants.'

His face blushed. Was he angry? She couldn't tell. But a frustrated man had always fucked better as far as she was concerned. And as she felt his belly brush up between her thighs, the frustration in his hips was clear, as he started to go hard. She grabbed his ass, hoping he had enough in the tank not to grind to a halt.

Because in fifty pounds or so, he'd blow up real soon.

And his face really would, be a picture then.

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