Chapter 3

We had just left my parent’s place on Christmas Eve, comfortably full from yet another sprawling holiday mean and both of us a little buzzed.

Matt was ahead of me, his juicy hips and butt swaying from side to side. I’d noticed his overstuffed pear-shape now tended him towards waddling a few weeks ago and every time I saw that swooshing movement I felt my pants tighten.

Realizing I had the keys, he leaned against the wall, belly pushing out and, once again, raising the bottom of his sweater up enough for his belly to peak out of the bottom. It jutted out further and further these days and I had to turn sideways past him to make it to the door – his meaty backside pushed him out from the wall enough as it was, but that growing belly added another element I needed to navigate to get to the door.

His face was flush and I felt heat emanating from his body as I brushed past. He was holding the bottom of his belly as if he were pregnant, rubbing it lovingly, seeming not to notice how much it was sticking out and that I had to finesse getting past him.

I let us into the house and he stepped up on his wobbly tippy-toes and kissed me as we walked in.

He quickly stripped off his sweater and button up, throwing them on the couch as he walked towards it. Clad in only a loose-ish binder – a new addition with the added weight – and his boxer briefs, he took a languid series of steps and then collapsed into our veritable sea of couch cushions.

I could only see the rise and fall of his belly from this angle, the large, perfectly rounded globe moving only slightly with each in- and exhale. A few light tiger stripes dotted the bottom of his belly, but otherwise he was remarkably clear-skinned for someone who had gained weight so quickly. I rubbed the back of my neck, guiltily assessing whether or not he could stomach one last treat before the evening wound down.

Thinking quickly, I offered as casual an opening as I could:

“Fancy a nightcap before we turn in, babe? We can get some suger plumbs dancing in our heads…”

All I could hear was a groan from the couch as I made my way to our barcart, a recent splurge at the fleamarket.

“What was that, hon?”

“I said just a small one.”

A naughty little shiver ran down my spine.

“Of course!”

I poured us each a generous serving of rum and then skipped over to the fridge to add a generous helping of eggnog – full fat, of course.

On the way back to the couch, I noticed a packet of shortbread cookies I’d set aside for exactly an occasion as this. I grabbed them and returned to my bloated lover.

He was on his phone now, back still flat and belly airing itself out. I could see the marks where his pants had dug into his stomach and little tendrils of flesh were bulging out over the edges of his boxers, already wearing thin.

I sat down on the small part of the couch he’d left open and elbowed his doughy shoulder, passing him his drink which he passively received while scrolling mindlessly in his bloated state.

I turned on our little projector and keyed my phone up to play a random Youtube “fireplace and christmas music” video to set the mood. I took a sip of my drink and looked at the cookies I’d put on the table. It was a pack of Walker’s shortbread, Matt’s favourite. As his chubby little sausage fingers lazily swiped his phone, I imagined him reaching over to the box, blindly removing a finger of sugar-covered sweetbread, and sliding the entire thing past his chubby checks and into his waiting maw.

The music played softly in the background as I weighed my options. He was already stuffed from Christmas dinner, but after my nudge, I could see him slowly nursing his drink, which meant he had room. The moral dilemma of wanting to watch my steadily-expanding boyfriend pack away yet more sweets after an already gut-busting day and seam-splitting season weighed heavily in my mind. Rationalizations and moralizations flashed internally staccato-style. As I so often did, the horny gremlin inside of me opined that I never forced him to eat anything, merely gave him access to things he wanted.

A course of action gradually took shape in my mind and, with slightly shaking hands, I went to execute: I reached over to the packet of cookies, opening it, and took out one for myself. I chewed on the end tepidly and then nudged him again, placing the packet next to him, just comfortably in reach of his left hand.

Seconds passed with agonizing slowness.

Slowly but surely, though, his chubby wrist snaked its way down from his phone and into the packet. He grabbed one, and then, devilishly, went back for a second, with his one hand, and then, every bit as vividly as my fantasy, slid the first entire piece into his mouth without a word. He chewed noisily, lazily, decorum seemingly not worth the effort in his inebriated, stuffed state.

Pretending to look at my phone, I watched with wrapt attention as my ever-expanding boyfriend slowly but surely ate his way through the entire box over the course of the next twenty minutes. His fingers snaked in occasionally. He was never piggish, just consistently snacking. I felt a small jolt of excitement run down my spine as I watched his crumb-crusted fingers touch the bottom of the package and rummage briefly, without luck.

He shuffled after this, presumably making room in his burgeoning, full stomach. I felt a small rumble from his diaphragm through the coach – my erection was almost painful at this point.

Wordlessly, still seemingly in his blissed-out trance, he reached out and pulled me over towards him. Still deigning to speak, he simply patted the corner of our sectional for me to tuch in next to him.

I was only too happy to oblige.

Tucking myself next to him was always an incredible way to feel just how much larger he’d grown. When we first got together, I probably had a good thirty to forty pounds on him, simply because of my height. But feeling the weight of his body pressing on me right now, he’d not only closed that gap and overshot it, but it wouldn’t have shocked me if he was getting close to double what I weighed now. It’d been a while since I weighed myself, but I would have guessed that put him into the low three-hundreds and probably inching towards the mids.

An involuntary shiver at the thought wracked my entire body and I jostled his aching belly by accident.

He grunted.

‘Ergh, what are you doing? Can’t you see I’m nursing a turkey dinner over here.”

“I know, I’m sorry my love. I don’t know what came over me.”

He adjusted himself and the top of his belly loomed a little over my side.

I was in utter bliss. With his belly ensconcing me from behind, and his doughy thighs smooshed against mine, I could not think of a safer, more comfortable place to be.

It was surprising, then, that I heard a huff from Matt that pulled me out of my reverie.

“You okay, hon?”

A grumble.

“Ugh, I just feel so full…. I think I overdid it with Kathy and Jer-bear tonight.”

Every time he said my parent’s names a little sparkle went through my heart – but even more than that, my horniness burned far brighter with this admission of gluttony.

“It’s okay!” I was peppy and consoling to the extreme without hesitation.

“It’s the holidays, you know? It’s okay to indulge.”

A pause.

“I’ve been indulging an awful lot lately, though, don’t you think?”

An epic duel began inside me in that moment: embrace the horniness and lie, or engage my partner in an honest conversation. My head was pounding with anxiety as I considered where to go.

“I mean… maybe a little,” I hedged, “but it’s not that big of a deal. You’re having fun and I think you look so cute sometimes it makes me want to scream.”

I was sure I had nailed it.

Another pause.

“What do you mean about how I look?”

A pause so pregnant developed it could have been Ocotomom.

“I just mean… you know, everyone’s always worried about their weight at Christmas time. I just don’t want you to, is all.”

I felt like I was answering the way a caring partner was supposed to, but my anxiety was only climbing by the second.

“It’s just –” and suddenly I felt him shifting behind me “--I feel like this belly is just getting out of control.”

Suddenly, the vast, mooshy mass of my boyfriend’s belly and hamhock arms began to creep over me. My body slipped underneath his as he slowly enveloped me. Before I realized it, I was underneath him entirely, his weight pressing down on me uncomfortably, robbing me of my breath but leaving me in utter erotic bliss all at once.

I was face-to-face with Matt, now. His eyes were a little glassy from the drinks, but I could still see those keen eyes sizing me up. I could smell the eggnog and shortbread on his breath – a little booze, too.

“Don’t you think I’m getting a little chubby, honey?”

The question was an erotic trap of the highest order. There was no way out of this alive, I was convinced.

“I… I don’t know. Maybe you’ve put on a little weight, but it’s just relationship stuff, you know?”

That brilliant smile of his struck me with a physical force, but now it had a somewhat carnivorous edge to it. My heart kept pumping, fear and arousal blending together indistinguishably.

“I think we both know it’s more than a little weight.”

He leaned down further, now beginning to crush me beneath him.

“Don’t you think so?”

More than out of breath, I was utterly locked in an erotic trance and English had left my consciousness. I simply couldn’t think of words to speak.

He adjusted his belly once again and I could feel it finally make full contact with my outrageously hard erection. It was actually becoming painful now to still be trapped in my jeans.

“It’s funny, though. I get the sense that you don’t mind it.”

Matt began to grind his stomach into me even more forcefully. I felt my lungs bottoming out, I needed to breathe soon.

“In fact,” he smiled wider now, “I get the sense you might just be one of those chubby chasers.”

Unwilling panic set into my eyes. I’d never really been drawn to the label, but admittedly, everything I had watched with glee happen to Matt fit that bill pretty damn accurately.

I looked at him pleadingly.

“Yes…” I croaked. “I like it. I like how you look. So sue me.”

I tried to be playful, to cut the tension and embarrassment I felt at being found out after all of these months. Had I done anything wrong per say? No. Had I betrayed his trust? Yeah, yeah I definitely had.

He let a little pressure off my chest; enough for me to take a large breath and replenish my life force.

“You thought you were pretty sneaky, didn’t you?”

If it hadn’t been for my recent oxygen deprivation, I would have blushed redder than red.

“I… ugh, what do you mean?”

“I mean you made sure I haven’t missed any meals, huh?”

As if on cue, his stomach gave a digestive rumble.

“You’ve been slipping me snacks all year, happily watching me blimp up.”

Sweat beaded down my face now.

“I… Matt, I never meant to do anything wrong. You were just so happy… and I loved how it made you look. I just didn’t want to change anything. This all seemed so perfect.”

Tears worked their way to the edge of my eyes.

He paused. There was still that strangely predatory look in his eyes that made me fearful for a moment that he was about to release some pent-up anger.

“You’re just lucky, hon, that I happened to like it.”

I felt my ears ring.

“You… you liked getting fat?”

His smiled again, warmer this time.

“In all honesty, and I know this sounds crazy, but I didn’t really notice that much at first. I was just so happy.”

Now it was my turn to smile. My heart was still pounding, but I felt a tiny semblance of ease return.

“I know it sounds weird, but I know what you mean. I was just so happy seeing you happy that I never stopped to think about where all of that eating was going.”

The heat of his body was warming me up incredibly quickly. I could feel little beads of sweat working their way down my forehead still, and in the few small places where our flesh touched, I could feel the burning warmth of his skin.

“But at some point that changed, didn’t it?”

Now it was my turn to smile.

“I’m not sure when, but yeah.”

Matt shifted again, his full weight pressing back down into me as each side of his belly fully enveloped my sides and his hammy arms wrapped around my ears. His nose was almost touching mine.

“How about next time we talk about that, huh?”

I gulped.

“Yeah… yeah, that would have been the respectful thing to do. I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to betray your trust.”

“You’re just lucky I caught on to you quickly – and that I happen to like being a fat guy.”

We both paused for a second, and then began to laugh together.

Without warning, he brought his lips to mine in a firm embrace.

“You do know, though, that I’m going to have to punish you now.”

Already completely at his mercy as he lay on top of me, I had no choice but to acquiesce.

“I’m yours to command.”

Those entrancing eyes sparkled again.

“I know,” he said while kissing me, "you'll make it up to me somehow."

All I could do was gulp and smile.