Chapter 1 - 1

It was the first day back to work after the Christmas break.

Looking in the mirror, I was disappointed but not surprised at my doughy form. I was a serial yo-yo dieter, with a wardrobe ranging from UK10 - 14. I was well into my 14s at this point.

The burgundy shift dress was tight, with the outline of my belly and love handles pouring out of my too-small thong clear to see. My bum, hips and thighs were spread wide. This outfit was not my friend.

The problem was, I’d already tried on my fat trousers and my fat skirt, and they were both too small. They buttoned up, just, but I couldn’t comfortably sit down in them for a whole day.

I squished my soft body into a pair of Spanx and vowed that my diet would start today. I didn’t want my husband to see me like this. He worked away for weeks, sometimes months at a time, and he was currently on one of his longer trips.
Six weeks to get from fat to fit? No problem, I’d done this many times before.

…

I sat in my comfy PJs and tucked into my steamed salmon and vegetables. Scrolling through photo albums on the laptop, I wanted to find some pictures from my thinner days to keep me on track with this diet.

It was then that I came across my husbands secret porn stash.

BBW, feedee, feeder, fat, plumpers, gaining, stuffing. WHAT. THE. FUCK.

The dirty dog was into fat chicks? Big beautiful women. And here I was, starving myself again, for what?

I suppose there had been some subtle signs. He encouraged me to eat big on holidays. I remember him rubbing my bloated belly after I overdid it on our honeymoon. He would always say that I didn’t need to diet, I was beautiful as I was blah blah. I thought he was just being kind!

Over the next few hours I came up with a new diet plan. Forget slimming down, I was going to plump up. My husband would return home to the fat wife he secretly always wanted.

…


First things first, I needed some bigger clothes. I popped into Primark on my lunch break and grabbed a load of size 16 items. I’d always refused to buy above a 14 before. If they had become snug, I took it as a sign that I needed to diet. This was new territory, and I was excited.

After work I went to the supermarket. There was no list or meal plan, I just filled my trolley with fattening treats. Pizzas, donuts, ice cream, chocolate, cheese, cake, crisps, anything and everything that would help me to pile on some pounds.

Next stop was the local chip shop for that night’s dinner. I chose cod and chips with a battered sausage and curry sauce. A deep fried calorie laden meal to start me off.

At home, I quickly unpacked the food shopping, then changed into some of my new pyjamas. I sat on the sofa and gorged myself on the chippy tea, leaving not a scrap. My stomach ached from all of the grease, and I suppose the sheer volume of food I’d consumed.

After a while, I’d digested enough to move myself off the sofa. I lifted up my pyjama top and took at good look at myself in the mirror. Definitely fatter than I’d ever been - it was a good starting point considering my new aim.

This made me curious. How much did I weigh already? Back in the summer I was 140lbs, which had me comfortably in my size 12s. I knew that number had been slowly creeping up, but Christmas had definitely caused a short rapid gain. I stepped on the scale - 165lbs. Wow, a new high for me! It was no wonder my clothes had stopped fitting really.

I went back to the sofa, armed with a selection of cheese and crackers. I nibbled away, washing it down with some leftover Christmas port until I fell asleep with a very overfed tummy.

…

The next morning my belly had gone down significantly, but still felt slightly puffy from the previous night’s indulgence. I chose one of several new loose fitting dresses to wear, teamed with some thick black tights.

I scoffed down 4 slices of buttered toast whilst packing a bag of ‘desk snacks’ for the day. I planned to push myself a bit further today, I wanted to find my limits.

Over the course of the morning I grazed on cookies, donuts and cake bars. By the time lunch rolled around, I wasn’t hungry in the slightest, but that didn’t matter. I wasn’t about to stuff myself in front of my colleagues, so I snuck out to the KFC drive thru for my lunch, and ate 2 zinger tower meals in my car.

It was a struggle to sit for the afternoon with such a full belly. It sat like a doughy football in my lap and I rubbed it under my desk. Thank goodness for the loose dress! I managed 3 chocolate bars during the afternoon, but I felt quite sick by the time I had to drive home.

I waited a couple of hours before deciding on 2 oven pizzas for my dinner. The first went down pretty easily, but the second almost defeated me. My tummy was hard, round and aching. It protruded further in front of me than ever before, and I kind of liked it. I rubbed it and imagined how big I was going to get.

Somehow I found room in my ‘dessert belly’ for a whole tub of Ben and Jerry’s right before bed. Again I felt sick, so I closed my eyes, rubbed my overfilled belly and fell asleep.

…

2 weeks in.

After a fortnight of stuffing myself to the gills constantly, my efforts were starting to show. I was up to 176, and huge gain of 11lbs. I felt proud, and couldn’t keep my hands off of my growing body. Especially my belly, which was always so full and round now.

My face looked chubbier, and my little double chin was starting to grow more. I had to angle my camera from higher up during Skype calls to my husband - I didn’t want to spoil the surprise. I even boasted about my diet. “11lbs in 2 weeks!” I told him.

I felt like my stomach capacity was increasing by this point, so I decided to ramp things up a notch. I decided to add a weight gain shake to my morning routine. Heavily doctored with added cream, they were sure to speed up my progress.

…


4 weeks in.

Oh the shame! A colleague rubbed my belly and asked when I was due. Only I wasn’t ashamed, I was thrilled. It was an easy mistake, I was constantly so full of food that my belly always stuck out further than my growing breasts now. The dresses hid nothing, and I needed to size up already.

The scale read 191lbs. An incredible gain of 15lbs in just 2 weeks. More than a pound a day! The shakes were really paying off.

I couldn’t hide the gain in my face any more, so I had to tell my husband that the camera was broken. Even my fingers were getting fatter, so I needed
To remove my wedding ring.

…

6 weeks in.

I’d done it. My husband was due to land this afternoon, and I was tipping the scales at 208lbs. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that I would ever weight more than 200, and here I was. A mountain of plump flesh, a human balloon.

I chose a size 18 a-line shirt dress. It had little buttons running down the front, and a tie belt just under the bust. It was already too small, with my plump breasts straining the buttons. They sat on top of my big round gut, which also threatened the buttons. My belly button was deep, and thick love handles wrapped around me like a pool ring. My hips, thighs and bum spread wide and wobbled when I moved. My arms were puffy and the sleeves of the dress were tight.

I applied my makeup and squished my chubby cheeks. I looked so overfed, it was actually comical. This was going to be fun.

…


Walking towards me at arrivals, I saw my husband’s jaw drop. As he got closer, he tried to hide his confused face. We hugged and he pinched my fat bum.
I took a step back, but he deliberately avoided looking down at my body, focusing on my chubby face.

In the car I caught him looking at my middle. His face flushed with red. He quickly tried to distract from the situation by awkwardly telling stories from his trip. There was an elephant in the room, and I was the size of one.

“Fancy grabbing some dinner out before we go home?” I asked. “I’m starving!”

He tried to stifle a grin. “Sure you are.”

I pulled in to the car park of the local buffet restaurant. I’d always refused to go there, protesting that it was a place where fat people ate. My husband raised an eyebrow, then laughed.

…

Four plates in, I was stuffed. My bulging belly sat in my lap, straining the buttons of my dress. I downed my coke, leant back, then rubbed my stretched out sides to let out a little burp.

My husband’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head, but still he said nothing.

“I’m going to get some dessert, would you like any?” I asked.

“No babe, um, you go ahead…”

I loaded my plate. Chocolate fudge brownie, vanilla cheesecake, apple pie and ice cream. Although I was full, I’d been training for this for weeks. I ploughed through them, seemingly with ease.

“Right, let’s get you home!” I gestured towards the exit door. “But first, can you help me up?”

My husband assisted me out of the chair and to my feet. My belly was huge, sticking out like I was in late pregnancy. I waddled out to the car.

Sitting down in the car seat, the strain on my buttons was too much. Two popped open at once, and my deep bellybutton was exposed.

My husband took a deep breath. I could see his boner and he looked like he was about the explode.

I decided to come clean.

“So I found your porn stash on the laptop…” I started.

His face turned red, then he started to smile. It made sense to him now.

….

My husband practically ran to the front door of our home, whereas I waddled slowly, buttons still popped open on my dress.

Once in the bedroom, he unbuttoned the rest and stared in awe at my plumped up body. His hands gently explored every inch. Fat ankles, wobbly thighs, wide bum. He tickled the soft underbelly of my overfed gut, then squeezed my plush love handles. The rolls down my back, my chubby arms, and finally my swollen bosom.

I pulled off my tight underwear, then straddled him on the bed. It was hard work - I’d never been this fat before and my belly was achingly full. I wanted my husband to see it all though. My belly bounced as I rode his dick the best I could. I was relieved when we both came quickly, I was sweating like a pig.

“You made my dreams come true” my husband whispered sweetly in my ear.

He rubbed my poor stomach until I fell asleep, dreaming of our new fuller life together.

….