chapter 1

She's all belly
As I come in the door from work & look down the hall at my wife waddling & lumbering towards me in sweats & a half shirt (really an outgrown Lane Bryant 4x), I am as filled with pride as she is filled with fat. Her lower belly fills her 5x sweat pants fully - stretched tight over the huge hidden sagging, swaying mass - the double belly roll bulge prominent, the split in fat lobes below her cavernous navel dent clearly seen. Smiling, rosy cheeks, double chin hanging and drooping as big as a goiter, long shiny blonde hair piled up on her massive shelf ass. That wide ass is as heavy as a boat anchor. She can hardly stand up now. The new mobility scooter, used for mall and restaurant trips, lurks nearby, knowing that it won't be long till it is needed to roll her many rolls into the living room.  

Elephantine thighs jiggling with every rubbing step, knee rolls prominent & new rolls forming at her cankles. Titties still relatively small, amazingly, and a nice big, heavy, a thick pork loin of an upper belly roll sagging just below them, daring her to eat 1 more HoHo so it can flop over. 

Wide slabs of flab draping down from her hips, at what used to be (years ago) muffin tops, converging to form that massive, sagging, soft, squishy, gooey, dough-like, heavy, gelatinous mass of hanging, draping, sagging flesh known as her belly. Like a huge hefty bag filled with jello. Arms huge & puffy. 

My masterpiece. I have fed her, and she has had the feedbag on, for 20 years. From a chubby 170 pounds to nearly 550 pounds. And at 5'5" that is a VERY fat woman. MY doing. Her fattener. Her cajoler. Her encourager. Her stuffer. Her belly rubber. Her enabler. Her shamer. Her ridiculer. Her isolater. Her lover. The reason she is a porcine blimp, a mass of fatty goo. Oh, and she also is a greedy, food addicted, self concious psychological mess who loves being fattened & exploited & cummed on.

Our friends & family watched in horror years ago as she passed the 300 pound mark in record time after the wedding, wondering what in the world was happening to her. Why she gobbled up everything in sight. Why she was always snacking. Then as she passed 400 and quit her job, they slowly began to realize that I was the reason she was larding up. My gentle encouraging in public at dinners and sneaking belly roll pinches gave me away as a sick, fat lover, controller at last.

Finally her best friend Louise confronted me one day and asked "Why the he'll are you making Marie fat? She told me you want her bigger! I know you are doing it on purpose??" I smiled an evil smile & replied, "Well, I am erotically attracted to very fat women and want her to have a huge, fat, hanging, jelly belly for my sexual pleasure!" The friend was, needless to say, not happy and cursed me out. I smiled again and said, "Louise, you have put quite a bit of weight on ypurself lately, right in the belly, just as I like it. You are looking hot. Couple hundred more pounds would look awesome on you girl, hope you keep snacking too much and chugging away on the Chardonnay."

 She, gasped, looked down at her waistline stuffed onto a too-small dress, and her hands instinctively grabbed her mid-sized belly roll. And that was pretty much it for friends once word got around. All the better for me to isolate, monopolize and fatten up Marie.  

The house now smells of garlic & italian food - she has surely been cooking & sampling liberally ALL day. She welcomes me with a French kiss and chocolate breath. I say, "Snacking again ? You're going to lose your girlish figure babe." She laughs & says, "You'd like that wouldn't you?" She takes my hand with her pudgy fingers & waddles to the stove to turn off the heat (she's so slow, so fat, so heavy, so winded from the short trip down the hall), then to the bedroom.

Marie lays back on the bed, empty dirty pasta bowls litter the nightstands, & her belly - a huge heap of cellulite mottled belly fat - is completely filling the area between her jello thighs. The mass spreads out on the sheet towards her knees. We've had to get creative with sex - missionary is a complete impossibility now. She climbs on top of me, I enter, and my face is buried in the heavenly soft Belly dough. I empty myself inside her and am a happy man. She is definitely "all belly." Sweating & winded, she rolls off and asks eagerly, "Is it dinner time yet baby?" I reply "it's always dinner time here Marie." So she munches on a snickers while I fetch a calorie laden dinner, starting with butter soaked garlic bread, followed by spaghetti & meatballs & a quart of ice cream. "Marie you are my fat pig." I say as she finishes it all and greedily asks for more. She moans as I massage her doughy lower belly lobe.

Oh and by the way - I saw Louise yesterday at the grocery store after several years - she has to be 300 pounds now - and she is "all belly" too. I smiled, waved and pointed at her belly. She gasped, turned red, looked down at the fat mess bulging over her waist line, flipped me off, & walked away.  I called after her "Looking good Louise, right on track," and watched her lard ass waddle away as long as I could.