Chapter 33 Growth spurt

It was Halloween 2023 and Rachel and I went to a party. We ate, we drank, we danced, the whole shebang. It was nice and we had fun but I didn't think too much about it afterwards. And then, I saw the pictures.

It came as a shock to me. Rachel looked positively enormous in every photo. She was easily double or triple the size of anyone else sharing the frame with her. I could only think about how huge her arms looked in the sleeveless dress, with her cellulite and fat folds in display for anyone to admire.

Don't think I was delusional, I knew full well that my wife was tremendously fat but sometimes when you live close to someone, you lose perspective on things. I was so used to my obese hog of a wife that I didn't realise how huge she was becoming.

After the eye-opening pictures I started looking for signs of my wife's weight going on the rise again. She had a hard time reaching and then staying in the 400s as it is, I didn't want to add any more pressure to it. Being observant was the best approach.

A few weeks later I noticed bright angry stretch marks under her boobs and on her lower back, close to her ass. To have red stretch marks when you are Rachel's size is certainly an achievement as the bigger you are the fewer new ones you get. She already had hundreds of silver marks forming a subtle tapestry around every inch of her body and the new additions were undoubtedly a sign of greater things to come.

This findings sent my feeder impulses into a frenzy. I had been the gentle encourager ever since Rachel got to the 400s but now that it was clear that her body "wanted" to gain weight, I would be there to tilt the scales. And in all honesty, it was pretty easy, as my wife's hunger seemed to be out of this world.
She had always been through periods of "normal" eating with big portions and fatty foods but otherwise reasonable but now she was ravenous it's like she was preparing for hibernation.
She would have a massive breakfast with two dozen pancakes and a pound of bacon just to be demanding more food 45 minutes later. She would grab her huge belly while in the couch and tell me that she was famished or she would directly roam towards the fridge and start mindlessly shoving things into her mouth.
Every night she would eat into a coma just to wake up two hours later in the couch eat some more and only then head into bed.

My work was pretty much cut out for me. I only had to make sure that I was providing enough calories for my insatiable pig.

It was the end of November when I finally couldn't wait any longer and brought the scale into our bedroom.
She had woken up already and she was in bed with her phone trying to gather enough strength to move her gargantuan body out into the kitchen to devour breakfast.
She finally swung her legs across, big and riddled with cellulite, one at the time. Then she got to the edge of bed and push herself up, it took 2 attempts. She got to her feet, her balance slightly off still and she waddled towards the scale.

"I'm ready.." the mechanical voice proclaimed. And so we're we

"It's... four.. hundred and.. seventeen.. point .. eight pounds"

As an answer, Rachel looked at me and said: "Well, what's for breakfast?"