Chapter 59

Time lost meaning as we stopped sleeping in normal day/night rhythms. Instead, she’d stuff until she was too exhausted to continue. We’d nap for a few hours, wake up and repeat. The cycles of eating and napping stretched through the days and nights.

She asked me to feed her most of her food. That was my job now. It was an intensely intimate dance, me spooning more cake into her mouth with one hand, my other hand pressing into her soft belly flesh, willing it to grow fatter, oh so much fatter. I was so in sync with her body and her eating that it felt like we were fused together, like my hands were now just another appendage of her digestive system. My hands existed to bring food to her mouth; to give her the calories and sustenance that she needed to keep growing. I knew when she needed sweet and she needed savory. I knew when she needed spicy and when she needed creamy. I knew when she needed a big push to top of her fullness with heavy cream. I could sense her every desire, her belly sending out extra-sensory perception signals and beaming them to the resonant frequency of my brain. I could hear her every breath, and feel her every movement.

True to her request, we didn’t watch TV. We didn’t watch movies. No distractions. Just feeding and sex and napping; feeding and sex and napping. The rhythms were mediative, like her rapid growth was cocooning us in such intense love and lust for one another.

I lost sense of anything around me except for her eating. Just eating and eating and eating.

She ate without stopping for what felt like months.

She stopped bathing.

I grew a beard.

Her transformation was so fast and so complete that it was shocking.

Her belly that was just a chubby little thing when we met was now the crown jewel of her obesity. For so long she just had the tiniest of imperceptible stretch marks that sprouted as she grew faster and faster. But the stretch marks were starting to turn red and just visible to the naked eye. Her belly now covered her in a giant blob of incredible fat that stretched upwards so high that she could barely see over it. It seeped over her legs, spilling everywhere. When I managed to roll her to her side, her massive gut spread out from her body in every direction, resting like a giant sack of pillowy flesh against the mattress. It was so big that I now had to use two harnesses to manage to hoist her it far enough to have sex. When I lifted it up, I could see the layers of fat that encased her thighs, growing so fat that they now resembled one giant bulbous layer of fat beneath her belly. Her boobs were so fat that they hung over the sides of her belly and rested heavily on the bed. They were so giant that I could barely lift one of them with all of my might. Her arms were so big that her upper arm fat sagged and dragged across her belly when she reached for more food. Her face was now entirely engulfed with soft flesh. She smiled through swollen fat. When she laughed, her whole body swayed and jiggled, almost like a water bed moving in waves.

After months of not bathing, her smell encased the room. I enjoyed her powerful scent. Like everything about her now, it made me need her more deeply.

“We haven’t… *burpppp*… weighed me in a long time,” she said, finishing off a quadruple bacon cheeseburger. “I can’t wait to see what the scale says.”

I stared at my phone in silence.

“What?” she asked, impatient.

“Megan…”

“What!?& quot;

“You are now 1,600 pounds!”

“Oh my god!” she squealed. “I’m humongous.”

She patted her belly, and her oceans of upper arm and belly fat bounced together in unison.

“I’m so so big, but…”

“I know,” I said. “Let me get your breakfast.”

I looked at her fat form; giant and shifting and jiggling everywhere.

She had eaten too much that day already and it was only 7 AM. Much too much. Pizza and burgers fries and fried chicken and doughnuts and pancakes and eggs and bacon and biscuits. She drank down syrup from the bottle. She drank down more cartons of heavy cream than I could count. All before breakfast. She was a machine now. Her body existed to pull in too many calories, more than it could process, and convert them into more soft flesh.

“Matthew, can you please bring me a cheesecake for breakfast…” she asked pleadingly. “I have a craving.”

I kissed her face, and moved her hair out of her eyes lovingly. We both knew that I would not bring her just one cheesecake for breakfast. That could not possible satisfy her. I would bring her normal five, and an extra, just in case.

I pushed all doubts out of my head about how truly, utterly gigantic she was becoming. I was content in the knowledge that we were too far gone.

Neither of us could stop. Not now, possibly not ever.

Her hunger was too deep and too intense. And, me, I was too drawn to her, my shockingly obese and immobile wife. She pulled me like a moth to a flickering flame in the darkness.

Yes, she was fat. Yes, in fact, she was the fattest blob of a person that I had ever seen. But she was not nearly fat enough yet. Not for me. I needed her to keep eating. More food, not less. Faster, not slower. I need her to grow more, much more. I could sense that she needed it too.

I went to the kitchen to get her breakfast cheesecakes. I gathered six into my arms before pausing and peering into the fridge.

Something compelled me to grab a seventh cheesecake and place it onto the stack. I had seen in her eyes that her hunger was intense that day.