Chapter 1 - you have grown so chubby

I like that you have grown so chubby. I always wanted a man like you, someone I could feed and grow. I love to explore your body; it seems that every day you have a new fat roll or a crease or some new fun place for me to kiss and hold, some new bit of flab for grabbing and pinching.

I love that you have grown such grabbable love handles. I love caressing them, then climbing on top of you, grabbing onto those luscious love handles and putting you in me, then pulling and tugging on them as I ride you, your fat belly pushing against me, pushing into my slender body, pushing me into ecstasy and cascading sensual pleasures unknown to any other woman in any age or time. My inner thighs twitch and pulse as I think of spreading them to accommodate your growing gut.

I love that I can feed you in bed while we make love. I love to serve you, to cook for you, to feed and fatten you. You don't mind getting bigger, do you? I think that you have even started to enjoy it. Your arms, which were always a bit too muscular are now turning so soft and fat. Squeezing them makes me so happy.

I worship your body now. When we first met, you were so skinny, not much there to worship and so I didn't. I really couldn't, but I saw the potential in you from the start. Your appetites for life and food were so great, I could see that.

Slowly but surely, you began to change. I made you change. I covered your strong hard abs with a soft layer of fat, bringing you snacks and meals to consume, always encouraging you to eat a bit more each day. Now, you are the subject of my worship, like some great mytholgical weight-gaining god. I bring you plates of fattening food as a kind of sacrifice to you, to show you my adoration, to demonstrate my love, to worship you to the fullest I possibly can.

Your man-boobs, your rounding belly, they are manifestations of your love for me, and since I helped create them, I feel they show my love for you as well. I always seem to have my hands on your chub - all the time we are together. We sit together, and I am reaching for your pudge. I feed you with one hand and rub you with the other. When we walk together, I place my hand around your waist and grab your love handle. When we talk face to face, I reach out and touch your chubby cheeks or play with your double chin. Your chins wobble and jiggle as you talk, mesmerizing me until I can't pay attention to your words, only to your beauty.

And when we are in bed, and you are snoring, my fingers dance across your huge softened body like it's my own personal playground. I ply your fat between my fingers, measuring its mushy composition, gauging its growth. So much to hold, so much more every day, it seems.

I rub your flabby breasts and your softening bulbous gut. I love how it bulges over your waistband, stretching your shirts, and sometimes your shirt will ride up and expose all that lovely fleshy flab. Mmmm, I nearly swoon at the sight of that. I must have my fingers on you at all times. I cannot simply see your glorious body and be satisfied. I must have it and hold it.

I don't want you to ever take one ounce of this beautiful chub away from me. I am obsessed with it, and I will not permit this chub to ever go away. Promise you won't ever go to the gym or take up exercise or running. Promise you will let me take good care of you, that you won't burn one calorie unnecessarily. Let me get up and serve you whatever you desire. Just sit or lie down, and let yourself spread in joy.