Chapter 7 - August: Stuffing

Thirty pounds in a month was a record — extreme even for the women I followed online. I was insatiable; I couldn’t get enough, and my capacity was only increasing. I remembered before our wedding, when I was trying to shed pounds to look incredible in my dress. Everyone complimented me on my slim physique, saying I looked gorgeous and glowing on the happiest day of my life. God, I couldn’t believe how much I’d gained since then.

At the mall, after my very public weigh-in, Will helped me down from the scale, rubbing the top of my belly lovingly. He gave me a peck on the cheek and loudly told me that I’d need to watch what I was eating if I didn’t want to gain more than the doctors said I should during the pregnancy. Then he grabbed my wrist firmly and guided the rest of the chocolate bar to my face. “It’s okay, babe. You look gorgeous. These babies are going to be so lucky to have my beautiful wife as their mama!” He said it loudly enough for the attendant to hear, then pulled me aside and whispered in my ear: “my beautiful, growing wife. You’re getting so fucking fat. I may have guessed 190, but you’re beating even my highest estimates. For now. How embarrassing will it be when it’s hard for you to even waddle up the stairs to that scale? If you keep packing it on like this that’s going to happen sooner rather than later. My fat pig of a gorgeous wife will need me to help her up that little set of steps after she snacks the way she just did, because her legs will be so big and heavy and her belly will be so distended…”

The weeks passed and I never stopped. Quite literally, there was almost always something in my mouth. A shake, a gaining supplement, a chocolate bar, a cupcake, a bag of chips, a sandwich, pizza, salad drenched in dressing… I had become a machine, just eating and gaining and working and fucking and sleeping. I felt the changes throughout my body, and saw the stretch marks when I looked in the mirror. I was getting truly, undeniably fat. Not thicc, not chubby, actually fat. I wore my maternity dresses every day, and the larges started to stretch so tightly my tits popped out and my bellybutton was a deep cavern against the straining fabric. The sleeves cut into my arms, leaving angry red marks, and the hems seemingly kept getting shorter. I wanted to weigh myself so, so badly. I could feel every pound each time I rolled out of bed, or stood up, or walked to the bakery around the corner. I was so heavy! I was over 200 pounds! I didn’t know how far over, and I wouldn’t know for a while, but I wanted my next weigh in to be shocking to Will and me both.

I made sure that every time he came home from work I was as full and fuckable as possible. I thought about how, originally, I wanted to double the number of calories someone my size was supposed to have in a day. Now, with my increased capacity, triple was a minimum. It was a Wednesday mid-month when I realized I’d finished Will’s shake before the end of lunch. I was so, so full. I’d started leaving the blender just off camera and refilling whenever my coffee cup was empty, greedily slurping the thick liquid as I took meetings and calls. But now I was out?? The shake that used to take me six or seven hours had taken me four. I was such a fat girl. An absolute slut to consumption. I made myself another, and I tried to finish it before he got home.

I didn’t finish, but I was over halfway there when he walked in the door to me in an XL dress with virtually no give. The fabric strained across my belly — the doordashed McDonald’s cartons covered the table. 20 nuggets, two quarter pounders, two large fries, the shake Will made me and the one I made myself. I was almost too hazy to remember the massive amount of eggs, bacon, and toast I’d eaten that morning. And let’s not even talk about the snacks: three snickers, a chocolate muffin, and close to a family size bag of ruffles and a jar of onion dip. My legs were splayed and my gut was enormous and hard, the soft bottom spreading over my thighs.

“Get up off the couch,” will told me as soon as he walked in. I didn’t want to, I was so full. So, so full. Why did he make me do this?

“I told you to get up off the couch,” he said as I groaned, cradling my full belly. I did as he asked, arching my back and cradling my gut. “Is my fat little wife having trouble?” he asked. “Is she having trouble before she’s even hit 250? I thought that mark would be a long way off, but it isn’t, is it? That shake is strawberry, and I made you chocolate this morning. Are you eating even more than I thought? Are you packing more and more calories into that growing belly of yours?” I nodded — it was the most I could do, standing in a white dress that would’ve been elegant on a pregnant woman who was still slender. But as I nodded I felt my chin squish against my neck. I smiled softly and felt how fat my cheeks had gotten. I was exploding, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It’s okay baby, you can sit down again,” he said. “I just wanted to watch you struggle. It’s not like you can be on top right now anyway. You’re far too stuffed and helpless for that.” He started to pull off his pants, his cock bulging through his boxer briefs. I gratefully sunk back into the couch, scooting my inflated ass to the edge. He eased into me — so wet I took him in without friction — and started to move. He was on his knees, supplicant to me, fucking me as my engorged belly pressed against his frame. He picked up the blender. I felt like there was no more space inside me, but I knew I could do this for him. I pulled it to my face and guzzled it greedily, hiccuping at my fullness. He moved inside me slowly, tantalizingly, teasing me with his hard cock. I was in no state to move from the couch, but I did. I pushed him off of me and had him stand.

I sat on my knees, my heavy belly pooling over my thickened thighs. “We’re going to do something new,” I told him. “I’m going to eat as much as I want and then more. I’m going to fill myself with food and cum until I literally can’t take it. And you’re going to stand there and watch.” I took his cock into my mouth and sucked. I released it and took a bite of chocolate. I took him back into me, and I let go again. I was edging him — I was completely in power. He was mine and I was his. I would suck and fuck and eat until there was nothing left. Hundreds of calories, inches of cock, filling me up.

Soon enough I would be fat enough that I couldn’t sit like this, so I needed to make it worthwhile.