Not Big Enough

Chapter 1 Fatty wife Happy life?

Note to reader.

This story is written from a shifting point of view. The change will be indicated by the name of the character in a separate paragraph containing the POV character's name and nothing else, like so

Reggie

My name is Reggie, I have straight, brown, shoulder length hair, I wear a B cup and have slightly pale, white skin. When this all began I was about one hundred and fifty pounds. I wish that was unimportant but, as I look down at the number on the scale I know otherwise. Now, whenever the needle begins to slow it’s climb I stare with baited breath and hope against hope that it doesn’t stop spinning.

When it all began I thought I was too fat, I was wrong. But, like most of the women I knew, I believed it. Now I know better. Now I know I am not fat enough. Not big enough. Not heavy enough. Just, not enough, I need much more weight on me. I’m not even close to big enough. But it’s no worry for me. No more diet and exercise for this little piggy, no more going to market even. Though there’s probably going to be more staying home, and I’m sure as hell going to eat some roast beef sooner or later.

It all started that faithful day, I was an editor at a prestigious editing and publishing house. That day my husband Will saw me off to work with a smile and a wave, as he always did. Will is a stay at home dad. Well, we don’t have any kids, so a house husband? Whatever, I make the money and he cooks and cleans. A lot of guys would find it emasculating, but Will seemed fine with it. As I pass him I grab a couple of these little diet rice cake things I’ve been eating for lunch lately. Will makes something delicious for dinner most nights, so when I noticed myself putting on weight I decided to cut back on calories at lunch. Hence these flavorless pucks of Styrofoam. Nobody would ever accuse them of being delicious, but they kept the hunger away pretty well for how little they effect the waistline.

I knew I had lost two pounds the day before, based in my scale’s reading that morning, not a huge amount, it’s within the regularly expected day-to-day fluctuation of weight I think, but it still made me smile. It was movement in the right direction, so, I’ll take that as a win and hope for more. I went to my car to drive to work with an optimistic view of the future. Soon enough the day would come that I no longer had to worry about losing weight.

Will

“Okay, she’s gone. Operation Gretel shall now commence.” I said to myself once Reggie was in her car and driving off. I’d always liked bigger girls, but I was too afraid to tell Reggie about it. The fear wasn’t because I like chubby girls, I’d be fine telling her that, hell, that’s the lie told her to avoid admitting the truth. No, what really gets me going is something a bit more, let’s say, extreme. I like morbidly obese women, maybe not quite immobile, but close to that. I love the way fat looks cushioning and expanding every part of a woman’s body, I love the feeling of warmth and softness that comes from pressing up against such wanton corpulence. Hell, I even get excited at the thought of a woman having difficulty walking because of all of the weight on her feet.

But Reggie didn’t want to gain any weight at all, even thinking about it seems repulsive to her. Even when she thought that I just liked chubby girls she thought the idea of gaining weight was disgusting. So, I thought that I was stuck in a painful position, either leave Reggie, or live with no hope of feeling any fat outside of myself. At least in a sexual way.

So, when Reggie considered dropping her athletics to focus on her studies back in college I was overjoyed. When she forgot about restarting her diet and exercise plans while searching for work I was happy as a clam, and when she actively began to gain weight at her new job, well. Let’s say I’m not the only one who enjoyed what happened in bed thereafter. I never told her why exactly, but I knew it better than anyone else could. Every glimpse I saw of her body as it softened and rounded out sent my heart racing. Every touch against her plush, soft, skin left me more excited than the last. Then something unthinkable happened. Reggie stopped gaining weight, worse still, she started to go in entirely the opposite direction, getting thinner by the day.

The thought left a sour taste in my mouth and a despondent feeling in my heart. Life was beyond cruel to give me my heart’s greatest desire, only to rip it from my hands the very moment I could taste it. So, I did something I had promised myself I never would. I began to lie to my beloved wife, I began to plot against her, to pray for her failure. Reggie wanted to be as thin as possible, but nothing could match the excitement I felt from her fattening, nothing could ever be better. No, one thing would make it feel better. I wish that I could tell Reggie, I wish she could share in this excitement. But no, I must focus on reality and not fantasy. If I got what I want here it will be by secret and subterfuge. I started with a trick I saw on Malcom in the Middle of all things, and begin to melt down sticks of butter, then use a syringe I got online I would inject the liquid fat into Reggie’s diet snacks. The syringe made such a small hole in the container that I could easily hide it by simply puncturing a period and following that hole till the needle hit the cake. “Yeah,” I mumble to myself as I inject butter into a rice cake, “The other guys at college all called me a *** himbo for failing classes, joke’s on them. I’m getting one over on the smartest girl at the school. Really, she was the top student in all four of her years at the college. But this butter trick wouldn’t be enough, I had to find more ways to overcome her dieting.

Reggie

As I gained weight one thing was obvious, maybe the rest of the world hated this weight, but my husband loved it. Will hadn’t been this excited in bed since we were in our early twenties. But that changes little, if anything it’s a taste of things to come if I stay the course. It’s not like he wanted a whale for a wife. No, Will liked chubby girls, what was the new word for it? “Thicc? With an extra C instead of a K. Well, I know I’m only human. This is only the start, I will only get bigger as I age. So, rather than being chubby for my hubby now, then disgusting him when I’m actually fat, I’ll stay skinny for now, then get chubby as I age, thus ensuring I remain the object of his desire. On some level I know that he will always love me. But I just can’t shake that little feeling of fear that he would one day have to do all he could to hide the disgust he feels when he looks at me. So, I know he likes chubby more than skinny, but I also know he likes me as I am. So, my course is clear.

At work that day I ended up eating all three of my little diet rice cakes. Normally their taste was only just barely tolerable, but today they seemed, I don’t know, better? So, I ended up eating all three of them for lunch, a first, I normally had to struggle to force the second rice cake down my throat, but today I kind of wanted a fourth. No biggie, maybe I’ll bring four tomorrow. They’re under forty calories a pop, so why not?

Will

I start “enhancing” Reggie’s rice cakes while she’s at work, just so I don’t get caught. I butter tomorrow’s cakes each day. But I didn’t stop there. After a bit of searching online I found out that Megestrol is a pharmaceutical appetite stimulant, intended to treat anorexia and help people with cancer. I also discovered that micro dosing THC will stimulate appetite without getting you noticeably high. So, I started to get over the counter “full spectrum” CBD drops from the local pharmacy, which contain some THC, which can be used as an appetite stimulant by sneaking a few drops into dinner for my beloved bride’s blooming. I’ll risk accidentally injesting it myself, but it’s not really harmful. Besides, it has a strong enough taste that it’s too easily noticed in the rice cakes. So, every lunch will be extra butter, and every dinner will have some THC to boost her appetite, I can get Megestrol in time. It’s prescription, but not exactly a protected substance. So, that’ll go in the rice cakes, unless it tastes too strong, then into the dinners with plenty of strong flavors to cover up the taste.

Reggie

“The fuck is wrong with me?!?!” I groan to myself as I sit in my car, next to an empty bag from Jack in the Box, which sits atop one from McDonald’s, after what was now my third day of secret binging before work. “I even lied to Will!” I said more loudly than I meant to, “I’ve never done that before.” Okay, maybe some white lies. But as I survey my passenger seat filled with wrappers I can’t say that’s what this is anymore. I look down at my belly, it is now sticking out slightly beyond my waistband. I press it in a bit and watch the shallow handprint sink into my belly, only to pop out the moment my hand was gone. My stomach growls, “But I just ate.” I groan as I stop next to a trash can, I need to get rid of all these bags and wrappers, they’ll only make me think of it more.

By the time I get back to my seat it isn’t just my stomach making noise that reminds me of the fact I’m a pig. My stomach hurts, already. “Maybe it’s my age?” I turned twenty six this year. Most folks start to gain weight at around thirty if I remember right. Maybe mine just started going up a bit early. The hunger continues to get worse. “Maybe I should just throw in the towel and start eating breakfast at home.” I mumble to myself. I’ve never really felt hungry that early before. But now I’m st- my train of thought is then cut off by my stomach growling again. “Fine!” I say to my own stomach, “Just this once.” I then fish a rice cake out of my pocket. As I eat it I think, maybe I should skip on breakfast and just eat more thought things before work.

Will

Today Reggie was getting ready to go to work when she sat down at the table with a box filled with countless little bags. Each bag contained a single rice cake. Each rice cake now contained half a stick of butter, unbeknownst to Reggie. She took a bag and squeezed it tightly enough to make it open with a resounding pop. Reggie then took the rice cake and began to ear. This got my heart beating faster than normal just because I know how many calories are now in that thing. Reggie sighs and says “So, Will, I have a confession to make.” Alarm bells begin to sound in my head, Reggie continues, “You know how I’ve been gaining weight lately,” I couldn’t suppress the shit eating grin that covered my face. Even as Reggie stared angrily at me I only smiled harder. Reggie sighed and said “Hey, this is serious.” I finally manage to stop smiling as the fear of being caught buries my excitement. The topic is dangerous enough with a straight face. Reggie continues, “I have been secretly eating fast food.” She sighs, “A lot of fast food.” My smile came back against my will and I decided to roll with it. I said “You have nothing to confess. I think you are absolutely beautiful, and it’ll take more than a few pounds to make me change my mind on that. So don’t feel guilty, not one bit. I won’t be mad if you clear out the whole Wendy’s.” What I didn’t tell her was that I would find it hot as fuck, “So don’t you ever feel ashamed to tell me about your eating.” I’m glad we’re sitting at a table now, if I were standing somewhere free and clear there would be an extremely obvious hint of just how I feel about this. Then my wife told me something that made me blush, “Hey Will, would you still love me if I got fat. Extremely fat. Not chubby like you like, not like I am now, but morbidly obese. How would you feel if I put on a hundred pounds? Would you still love me?”

I feel like I may just explode in my pants. It took all of my self control just to not scream “DO IT!” At the top of my lungs. Instead I try to play it cool. “Is that what you’re afraid of? Honey. I love you more than anything else in this world. The planet would only be better if it had more of you in it.” Was that going too far? The alarms began to sound in my mind again as Reggie sat and looked down with a pensive expression on her face. Only then do I realize that she’d eaten two rice cakes as we spoke, “Well, I’d better get going. Don’t want to be late for work.” She said, making me think I should have said something else, though I have no idea what exactly. She grabs a few things on the way out.

I don’t feel guilty anymore. As I butter up more rice cakes to replace today’s I’m too excited, too happy, and frankly too horny to feel much else. Reggie’s weight continues to climb. I think I’ve had sex with Reggie nearly every night since I started fattening her up in secret, and the times I didn’t were only because she said no. All day long, while Reggie works I’ve been doing housework and random chores entirely on autopilot. My head feels like it has only two thoughts in it. First I try to find ways to fatten Reggie up even more. Second, I’m thinking of her body. Each night I spend with Reggie gets me more excited than the last, and I find myself unable to stop thinking about her body. I’ll openly admit it is becoming an obsession of mine. Logically I know this is unhealthy. Ethically I know it’s wrong. But honestly, I just want more. I sigh deeply and say “This is wrong, isn’t it?” to nobody in particular, before answering my own question, “Of course it is. I’m secretly dosing someone who trusts me with multiple drugs just to get off. But it’s just so sexy, she’s just so hot like this. I have always found Reggie attractive. She wasn’t especially fat before all of this, but I’m not exclusively attracted to big girls. But now that it’s Reggie whose gaining, I fear I can never go back.

Reggie

I drive to work and, not halfway there my stomach rumbles. Thankfully I’d grabbed the box of rice cakes on the way out, so I take a bag out and absentmindedly tear it open with my teeth. Munching away as I drive and think. I don’t know why, but I love these things more every day it seems, yet, it feels like they do less to curb my hunger each day. I finish my first rice cake and grab the second without thinking. “Okay” I say to myself between bites, “no matter how hard I focus on my diet I seem to keep putting on the pounds, if anything it feels like it’s going faster as time progresses.” As I get about three blocks from work my stomach rumbles and I look down at it and incredulously shout “I am CURRENTLY EATING! What more could you want?!?!” as I speak I notice the Del Taco I am driving by. I curse the fact that half of the fast food joints in town seem to be within a few blocks of my work. But who knows? Maybe I just need something heavier, something more substantial than a rice cake and then I’ll finally feel full. I pull into the drive through.

One Epic California Burrito later I pull into work to catch myself still munching on rice cakes as I drive. I’m about to scold myself for it when I remember something. A rice cake the size of my head has only thirty five calories, no fat, and almost no carbs. If my body wants to snack then it doesn’t get any better than this. So I grab the box and march straight into my office. Once I’ve sat down at the computer I start working. Not even halfway to lunch break I notice myself eating more of these freaking rice cakes on autopilot as I work. Its weird, they don’t really feel filling anymore. Not in the usual sense anyway. It’s more like they slow down the rate at which I get hungry. Maybe I’ll just snack on these all day and work through my lunch period. It’s not like they’re fattening anyway.

I think it’s working, come lunch break my stomach still isn’t rumbling. Granted, I’m completely put of rice cakes for it. I read the box to see that it has thirty six rice cakes, when full, each cake is one serving. I think I ate half of the box before. So, that’s about fifteen of them today. If they weren’t so light I’d be kicking myself over this. Thank God they are. Still, I feel like I’m getting fatter by the minute, my new clothes are already starting to feel tight and I just got them. Guess I’ll go for a jog on my lunch break to burn off some rice. So, I start running.

Each step I can feel my thighs rubbing against each other,. The weight of my stomach pulls down into my waistband too. Most annoyingly of all, my breasts bounce with each step I take now. They didn’t do that last time I went jogging. After a while I slow down and start walking. I need to buy a sports bra. Yeah, that’s what I need. These are getting old now anyway. I mean, it feels tight enough to be uncomfortable already, and I’m only a B cup!” So, now, walking more slowly, I pull out my phone and start to order some sports bras online to be delivered to my house. Same size and brand as I’m used to. I feel like a size up from before, but I refuse to buy bigger. I’m losing this weight damn it! Every last pound. My stomach sends a jolt of pain through me as it roars, bringing me to a full stop just as I approach a shopping center. I look up to see a McDonalds. I shake my head and say “No.” At the top of my lungs, then I squeeze my eyes shut and do something stupid. I sprint forward blind. I run faster and faster for a moment before crashing into someone exiting a building. I fall to the floor and hear angry shouting “Hey watch wh-“ the voice stops mid word as I open my eyes to see a hand reaching down to me as the voice softens noticeably, “are you alright there? Sorry, I didn’t notice you’d fallen until-“ then I saw it. I know I should be grateful, but the moment the sign entered my line of sight the man practically vanished. Popeye’s Fried Chicken. My stomach roars at me again and I take the outstretched hand, saying “Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I went well, I-‘ and am cut off by my stomach roaring more loudly than ever. I roll with it and say, “I’m just so hungry, missed breakfast today.” I lied and stepped around the man, going into the same building he’d just left.

The smell hit me like a wrecking ball. It was greasy smelling, but God it was good. And thankfully the place was practically empty, so I walk up to the window where the cashier stood. All of the fight in me was dead, I knew that, I was done even trying to fight the hunger. Yet the words that I heard leave my mouth surprised even me. “Hey, can I get two chicken sandwiches please, with no pickles,” then a sign caught my eye. “Oh! And an apple pie, and a large root beer, and. . .”

Will

Okay, if I up the dosage on the appetite enhancers slowly enough, then she shouldn’t even notice. So I pour a little bit more of the appetite stimulant into the cheese sauce, which I then pour onto the macaroni noodles and top with breading and some mixed veggies. Then I hear the door open and turn to see a, surprisingly tired and worn out Reggie walking up to me in the kitchen. She makes a beeline towards me and hugs me, rocking us both back and forth. Reggie feels so soft, so warm, so nice. Then she says “Hey hon. I had a hell of a day at work today” then, the next words she said were music to my ears, “God that smells good. What’s for dinner?” I make us two plates as I explain the simple pasta dish to her. Chosen for having a ton of carbs, and not much else, with veggies sprinkled on top to ease the conscious for earing a pound of cheese and noodles. I start eating first, can’t give her cause fir suspicion.

After we finish eating I start to clean up. Then, a few minutes later I hear a scream from our bathroom “A HUNDRED AND SEVENTY FIVE?!?! REALLY?!?!” I go to comfort my wife, and as we hold one another I feel all of the new fat packed onto her mid section. God this is great, but I need more. Reggie needs to eat more. She’s rounding out nicely, but one thought about my wife echoes in my mind. She isn’t round enough. Not fat enough, not soft enough. Just, not big enough.