Too hard to stay skinny (commissioned)

chapter 2

The cookies were a baker’s dozen plus one, and you couldn’t believe how your toned wife devoured more than over half of them, greedily and without protest. You had also whipped up a couple of milkshakes to help her wash them down. As you held anything to her mouth she eagerly launched at it, moaning as she chewed. As she approached scarfing down the whole box, her belly was notably sticking out and she was nervously sporting an obvious food baby.

You stroked it tenderly and reminder her that it was okay – those muscles of hers would almost definitely (disappointingly) burn it off by tomorrow. Also, it was time to catch up on that pizza dinner she had denied herself with her gal pals – the doorbell rang and you collected the order for her.
Her eyes had widened. She normally wouldn’t have ever allowed that kind of meal to pass her lips in one sitting! But she also couldn’t opt out of the challenge. And since your admission, she also wanted to please you. And it obviously pleased her too, at a visceral level.

You massaged her growing belly, upper arms and thighs as she ate so hungrily that you knew that she needed her to grow as much as you did. You knew it couldn’t happen so fast, but it felt like that muscle tone was melting away beneath your touch - to soft, luscious fat. You discreetly jiggled it and could have exploded with pleasure.

You couldn’t believe it as your wife demanded that you bring her more sweet foods to balance her savoury (& very fatty) meal. You ordered two dozen donuts, which you couldn’t believe she let you feed to her, desperately wanting them. Her cheeks appeared to pad out, framed by a double chin, making her more beautiful by the second. She moaned and fell into a beyond-stuffed stupor.
She moaned quietly as you continued to rub what felt like the beginning of fat rolls all over her. You had no idea that she could be such a pig, and it turned you on so much. A woman like that should have been covered in delicious rolls of fat.
You couldn’t wait until the next day.

* * * *

Your wife freaked out first thing the next morning about being so much softer all over. You reassured her that it was just how much all her muscle tone had relaxed since you had massaged her all over so generously. She did look so much less toned, verging on flabby, but she didn’t need to know that. She also didn’t need to know how much her ass had ballooned out behind her and how it even had a deep crease under all that extra fat. Instead you took her into your local bakery that you both loved, her still in her tight workout attire, too fat and lazy to change.

You explained to the cashier that you were having a party that afternoon, with at least 25 people, and your tasteful wife would be making the orders due to her impeccable taste. As she enthusiastically spoke to the clerk, you gently stroked the love handles developing over the tight waist of her yoga pants, dreaming of making them so much bigger soon.

Her waist, hips and thighs flared out, and were definitely not as toned or firm as they used to be. You imagined how big and wobbly you could make them at this rate. She’d exploded out so much after one night of indulgence…how fat could she blow up in a whole day of relentless feeding?

Your wife’s stomach grumbled as you pulled out of the parking lot. You pulled into a drive-thru to get her a big, greasy breakfast. She surprised you by slamming it all down, the oil and juices rolling down her face as she slipped into a state of fatty, lazy bliss once more.

You kissed her growing neck and body, to lure her out of the car and onto the bed. You told her that she needed rest up and spend the rest of the weekend right there. As she laid back onto the bed, every part of her wobbled subtly. You felt a thrill of anticipation as you brought in an entire chocolate cake for her to consume. She giggled, “I can’t have more than a slice of that, I’ll bloat up like some big cow!”

“You’re not going to have a slice,” you cooed mischievously, as you leaned over her and raised the cake up to her mouth-level”. Her eyes widened as she realised what you meant, but this look was quickly replaced by a gaze of both determination and longing. She shyly leaned forward to nibble the top edge. As soon as she had some in her mouth she leaned further into it to get a whole mouthful, chocolate cream lashed across her chin already. Her eyes rolled back and she let out a long moan, “ooooh. That is almost worth getting fat for.”

“Almost?” You chuckled and inched it closer to her mouth for encouragement, and started massaging her upper thighs. She tore into the cake with more vigour than you could have imagined, moaning with her mouth full and actually devouring it faster as she went. You couldn’t believe how soft her thighs felt now, like they had suddenly gained a covering of at least an inch of blubber. Your hands explored upward to her lower stomach and you couldn’t believe how huge she felt; the layer of fat there felt even thicker there, and felt like it was growing as she ate. Not just because she was adding to the contents of her stomach, but as though she was gaining more weight by the second. You watched her breasts swell as well while she finished the entire cake, licking the cream and crumbs from the plate (the ones that weren’t covering her chubbier cheeks, anyway). You gently touched the side of her wider cheek, using your thumb to scrape up some of the chocolate cream, which she greedily licked.

Still remaining straddled over her, you reached down to pick up one of the now melted containers of ice cream for your wife to chase the cake with. She audibly gasped, “NO! I couldn’t possible drink all of that!”

“Oh, I bet you can. I think you want it,” you said resting the edge of the container against her bottom lip teasingly, “I know we both need it.” She let out a low involuntary moan as she parted her lips to allow you to keep fattening her up right before your eyes.