Chapter 4 - You just look…curvier

It's now the beginning of December and time for another in-office meeting. Although I see 146 on the scale, I feel drastically different than I did the last few pounds, my belly now a proper fat roll hanging over my underwear and protruding hip fat on my sides. My butt keeps growing and my boobs are starting to get tight in my D-cup bras. 4 months of stuffings and Thanksgiving really tipped the scale for me, and the breakfast smells coming from downstairs smell like they are going to do the same. I go downstairs in my pajamas and find Mikhail in the kitchen with a smirk, placing a plate down on the dining room table and gesturing me to sit. I obey his command, and all the suggestions that follow.

I clutch both sides of my freshly swollen belly as I try to lean back in the wooden dining room chair. My skin is warm and practically sweaty, filled underneath with "blueberry protein pancakes" as Mikhail calls them. They would have been healthier if not drowned in butter and syrup, and if I hadn't overeaten once again. I quickly start to wonder how quickly I'd be able to digest these because my monthly in-office meeting starts in an hour and I'm about to look pregnant in tight clothing if not.

I feel how firm my stomach is full of carbohydrates, feeling how far it sticks out from my body and how much it's grown in the last few months. Why would I have agreed to breakfast before work? I know better. I know it's going to be a massive impossible amount he'll require from me, so why did I agree? I groan and try massaging some relief. Carb heavy foods are always the worst because I never know how much I've really eaten until I can't eat anymore and at that point it's all continuing to expand in my stomach, soaking up the surroundings, making me even fuller than a few minutes prior.

Mikhail stands behind me and places his strong hands over mine, cradling my pseudo 4-5 month pregnant belly. "You've done well," he says in my ear. "I didn't have to continue feeding or encouraging you. You gobbled up your whole stack and now you're beautifully swollen."

"They were so good but once I finished was when the fullness really hit me. I can't move. But I have a meeting soon. I better have clothes to conceal this thing."

"And if not?"

"Then I'm going to be asked 20 times if I'm pregnant which last I checked I'm not."

"Well, let's give it another try before work," Mikhail smirks. Before I can protest he cradles me in his arms and carries me to the bedroom. I can feel my belly barely moving but the contents sloshing with every heavy step of his. He gently places me on the bed, takes off my growing tighter pajama bottoms, and quickly gets to gente love making. I lay half in a food coma, unable to do much besides be his ragdoll, holding my stomach to try keeping it from moving.

We finish and we both need a shower. Again, he needs to carry me into the restroom. I take off my tank top and let my larger breasts flop out. Mikhail and I usually don't shower together due to our vast height difference but I'm short on time today and could use the help.

The stretchy medium pants I just bought last month are in the hamper. I find a random pair and with some difficulty pull them up. The waistband is tight, pressing in and causing my fat to overflow. My stomach has gone down only some since breakfast; I'm still very very full. There's no way these will work. Mikhail hands me a shopping bag.

"What's this?" I ask.

"A little something I wanted to give you when you've grown enough."

I open the bag and find 2 pairs of stretchy medium maternity pants. I'm conflicted, knowing I'll need these once I'm actually pregnant, but realizing I need them before that time is a little embarrassing. I blush as I examine them. Mikhail rubs my softening belly and helps me pull down my old pants. Once I put on the new ones, he slowly pulls the stretchy front panel up over my belly, hugging it, giving some relief from the weight it's posed on my body. They look great and fit amazing so I try to mentally get past their true size. I find a looser shirt and a blazer that helps cover my weight gain and stuffed belly.

When I get to my meeting, I feel like everyone is glancing at me. Maybe it's more noticeable this time. The meeting starts when Jake walks in who obviously has not succeeded at losing weight over the last month. We listened to a presentation and viewed stats, all while distracted by Jake's visibly strained shirt buttons. Jake dismisses us for a break, saying he brought donuts again but expects people to eat them this time.

In the break room, we all grab donuts and catch up. I notice Jake eating a few so decide to try talking to him on the side.

"Hey, are you alright?" I ask as Jake takes an aggressive bite from a powdered donut, spilling some on his tight shirt.

"I've been stressed is all."

"Anything I can help with?"

"Not really. Some stuff is just project manager stuff I can't delegate. Plus my wife and I had a small fight earlier so I'm all over."

"I'm sorry to hear that. If you want to talk I'm here," I reassure.

"Thanks. I appreciate that. I'm a stress eater so not sure why I picked donuts again this month. I'm just begging to gain weight." Jake pats his stomach while continuing to eat his 3rd donut.

"We've all gained weight working from home, so I wouldn't worry about it," I try to reassure. "I shouldn't eat these, either, but you know me and Boston cream."

"If you have gained weight you're carrying it well," Jake says. I almost believe him for a minute there, but realize I'm noticeably bigger at this point and he's just trying to be nice.

I blush, "I've always appreciated your honesty and being real with me like a friend, so you don't have to lie."

Jake lowers his voice. "I honestly can tell you've gained a little but, I mean this in a good way, you just look…curvier." His voice goes back to normal as he says, "unlike me who gains all in my gut here. My wife isn't going to be happy that I need to get some bigger clothes. I wasn't sure if I'd have anything to wear today."

"I can sympathize. I need to go through my closet and rearrange what still fits. I didn't have many choices."

"Which reminds me, I remember you saying you guys were trying for a baby. I hope this doesn’t come off as inappropriate or ill-timed, but any luck?”

“Not at the moment but we have hope.”

“Of course. You guys are so young and healthy with time on your side. I always wanted kids but my wife doesn’t want to give up her figure. We talked about adopting, though, so maybe one day. I hope the best for you, and to see you at one of these meetings with a baby bump soon.”

This statement got me excited but also a little embarrassed, thinking again about how much more I’m going to need to gain, and how large my belly might grow, and how much I’ll gain while pregnant…. So many thoughts going through my head, leading me to eating my third filled donut for the day. Like before, the meeting dragged on and by the end, Jake was making sure I took the remaining donuts home. He said he wants to make sure he’s supporting my desire to become a mother. Did he know about this method, or have an idea that that is what I’m doing? Then maybe my weight gain was more obvious and he really was being nice. There are many thoughts and possibilities, so I eat some donuts on the way home, keeping in mind Mikhail’s reaction last time.

I don’t even bother driving around the block when I see Mikhail’s car, eating 3 more like last time. I open the front door, casually holding the box and feeling the effects of the sugar hitting my system. Mikhail eyeballs me, “well, hello, beautiful. I see we have donuts again. And it looks like you didn’t wait, either.”

I look down and see powdered sugar on my growing cleavage. “Nope. Wanted to come home nice and full for you. Let’s get this over with so I can take a nap.” I heavily sit on the couch next to him and immediately groan and clutch my stomach. So much sugar.

“I’ll get you some milk.” Mikhail returns with a full glass which I slowly start to sip, alleviating some of the discomfort from eating only sugar and coffee today. He puts one arm around my shoulders and the other on my belly. “I’m still in shock at how much progress you’ve made so quickly, babe.”

“Gaining weight is something my body does easily, which was why I focused so much on food and health for so long. You know, I was always the chubby kid growing up, which is also why trying to get fat has been a mental roadblock to some extent for me.”

“You’re not fat,” Mikhail reassures and gives me more belly rubs. “You’re preparing yourself for a baby and you’re absolutely beautiful. You look so amazing with a full belly that I can’t wait to see you about to pop with pregnancy.” Mikhail hands me a donut which I eat quickly. Then another. Then I get a burp out. This time I get 3 down before I’m hitting my sugar coma, totaling today at 9 donuts. I drink my milk, bloating my stomach beneath Mikhail’s hand with every gulp. My breaths are shallow, and I feel both sleepy yet wired. I remember I’m wearing maternity pants and their stretchiness feels amazing, not causing strain on my stuffed gut at all. I lift my shirt to expose the high waisted panel cradling me. Mikhail rolls the panel down and rubs my bare stomach, and I soak in the attention with my eyes closed. Mikhail picks me up, takes me to our bed, and gives me a gentle love making, trying to make this belly into a reality.