Chapter 5

TWENTY-FIVE

That Christmas, we had a pretty insane pregnancy scare. Both Allie and I were on edge for a month, trying to rationalize what had happened or what could happen if it was true. Our holidays were wrought with tension, and I personally could barely eat. Allie was the same. I could hear her stomach gurgle, but she claimed to have no appetite.

After seeing the doctor, and confirming we were in fact not pregnant, Allie decided to go on the pill. To our surprise, her physician had not commented a word on the fact that she was nearly 200lbs, up almost 70lbs since her last physical in first year. I was grateful, assuming that most doctor’s offices these days were plagued with people suffering from post-quarantine weight gain.
Despite the warnings, Allie started the pill and … paid the price.

In 10 months, Allie packed on an additional 70lbs, all of which was completely out of her control. She freaked and tried dieting, tried to combat lethargy with exercise, but ultimately, as many others do, she blew up with the hormone imbalance.

She went up three cup sizes to a ripe DDD.

Her belly swelled forward, growing bloated and round.

Her thighs were littered with angry stretchmarks and her ass filled out every pair of pants she owned. When it came time for my birthday, I ordered a scale.

For my 25th birthday, my beautiful Allie clocked in at 256lbs.

I didn’t even have a plan for her. No stuffings, no reason to pig out, no hallpass for fetishism. In fact, I took the day off work and spent 24 hours just worshipping her body. I kneaded her like dough, brought her to climax until her clit nearly collapsed in on itself. She sat on the couch the whole time, grazing on Cost-Co bags of snacks and clumsily scrolling through socials. Her friends had said nothing when they had seen her, probably too shocked at the extreme size of her to address it at all.

Before bed that night, I watched Allie fumble into her grey athletic hoodie that she so often wore in our college days. It rode up on her burgeoning belly, showing the work of years of piggishness and lazy days. Her boobs stretched the LIONS across into a taught, blurred line. The printed letters were cracking from the strain.

She hiccoughed as she crawled into bed beside me, smelling of fried food and sugary donuts. I pulled her close, feeling her expansive figure at the very edge of my wingspan.

Quietly, she turned to me.

“Is this what you wished for?” She held her belly in her hands. There was a great vulnerability in her tone. “On your 21st birthday, is that what you wanted?”

“No,” I said, “This is beyond what I wished for. It’s more than I could have ever hoped for.”

I kissed her deeply, my hand tracing down her figure from her double chinto her fupa, and slowly inside her. She moaned, and reflexively grabbed two handfuls of her massive midsection as she bit her lip.