Chapter 1 - The House Husband

The bed creaked as I sat up from where I laid.

I yawned and stretched, running my hands down my body, brushing across my bare chest, and down my stomach. It all seemed bigger and softer every morning I woke up.

My wife had left for work several hours prior.  She had to be in the office by 8:00am. I wouldn't wake up til at least 10:00, typically later. Today it was 10:35.

I waddled to the kitchen, starving and seeking breakfast. If my wife were home, she would have made me breakfast in bed. But on days she has work, the food would be too cold to enjoy by the time I wake up.

I laid out a pan and heated up some leftover bacon. Then, I made pancakes and a large glass of chocolate milk.

Soon, my plate was in front of the tv, resting on my stomach as I ate.

After that was gone, I went back to the kitchen and sliced a sizable portion of cake for dessert.

For the following hours, I did nothing but watch tv and snack from a family sized bag of chips.

1:00 rolled around and it was lunch time.

I texted my wife, requesting she send a doordash order my way; a request to which she always agreed. I told her my order: a big mac, a 20 piece chicken nugget, a basket of fries, and a cookie.

I thanked my wife and turned my attention back to the tv.

There were times when I felt guilty, my wife working as hard as she does while I laze around all day. But I couldn't go back to work now, I was so spoiled to the lifestyle my wife provided. In the years following our marriage I had become accustomed to an endless supply of food, sex, and relaxation without ever having to lift a finger for it.

Of course, I had let myself go a little soft in this comfortable lifestyle. In the 4 years I had been married to my wife, I gained 200lbs. For the first hundred pounds, this bothered me. I felt weak and unattractive. I'd considered doing something about it. But I hated exorcise, i'd never give up the lavish meals and endless snacks, and I certainly wasn't going to get a job. I figured the weight was bound to come. I was very happy with the way everything already was. And my wife didn't seem to mind at all, she provided for me all the same. The next hundred pounds followed soon.

My show was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. With some struggle, I got up from the couch and went to the door.

There I found my McDonalds order. I carried it back to the living room and started in on my chicken nuggets.

I wasn't even sure if I was hungry. I just knew it was time to eat. And the comfort of the food made it so desirable. I knew this was what was making me fat. Even now I could feel my stomach pushing out as I filled it further and further past capacity. Still, I reached back into the bag for my fries.

I ran my free hand over my body again, still stuffing my face as I did so.

I wasn't wearing a shirt; I doubt I had one that still fit. With no one around but myself and my wife, I saw no reason to wear one.

I felt my pec. Well, I couldn't really call it a pec anymore. They were better described as a boobs. They hung off my chest, full but weighed down slightly by their mass.

Then my hand moved to my stomach. It was bigger than it was this morning. I didn't question why as I crammed a big mac into my mouth.

I was wider too. I felt over my side fat, and my love handles. I grabbed one, shaking it slightly, which caused my whole body to jiggle and shake despite how tight my stomach felt.

By the end of my exploration the food was gone. And I was already thinking of what snacks were in the kitchen.

——————

After a full day of napping, watching movies, scrolling on my phone, and, of course, eating, my wife was finally home.

I heard the door open and my wife's sweet but tired voice calling to me from the hall.

She entered; holding bags of fast food, something to keep me staid whilst she cooked dinner. She sat the food on the table in front of me and we greeted each other with a kiss and a long hug.

She then went to the kitchen to start cooking while I played video games and ate my takeout.

This was my favorite part of the day. I loved my wife dearly and missed her while she was away.

Soon, she called my name from the kitchen; dinner was ready.

I stood up and struggled my way to the dining room. Yes, she could have brought my food to the couch for me, but a little exorcise was important.

I took my seat at the table, the chair moaning painfully as it took on my weight.

My wife smiled and filled my plates. (Three to be exact)

She also filled one small plate for herself and sat down next to me, her svelte fingers intertwining into my pudgy hand.

The first two plates went down easy, as they always did. But the third… it seemed my wife had made my meal heavier than usual.

I keep eating, slow but steady; all the while, looking to my wife with sad eyes.

She looked back, knowingly; watching my struggle.

Finally, the act of carrying food to my mouth became too strenuous for my current state. I turned to my wife, and, pitifully, begged for her help.

She shook her head, forcing down an excited smile. My wife stood over me, taking a heaping portion onto my fork, and bringing it to my mouth.

I moaned softly as she fed me. I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation of the food hitting my tongue, and my wife’s gentle touch as I swallowed down my prize. Unmoving, unbothered.

I was her spoiled prince, her overfed house pet, hers. Hers to feed and fuck as she sees fit.

My very being hung upon her love and the sweet existence she provided for me. I had given her myself, and as much of me as she wanted.

What more could I offer such a wonderful woman?

Soon, the third plate was gone, and my thoughts broke away from the love of my life and turned towards the tremendous pressure in my stomach.

My wife rubbed firm circles over my belly, kissing my face and lovingly telling me how well I did, telling me how beautiful I looked.

She carefully helped me up from my chair, then walked me by the waist to our bedroom. Her hands cooly guided my fat body as she laid me down.

I felt her begin to take off my boxers. She took out my little dick. What was once a semi-impressive size, was now buried in fat and gluttony. I couldn’t even reach it around my belly.

Here I was, once again, entirely dependent on my wife.

I knew she liked it this way. In the beginning, she used to tie my hands to the headboard. She loved being in full control of my body and the pleasure I felt. I never minded, she knew how to use it much better than I did.

Now, no cuffs needed. My wife loved to watch me whine and squirm as I try (and fail) to reach my cock. Meanwhile she would keep edging me.. and shaming me.

“I hope all that food was worth it.”

“You’re so lucky I still want to fuck you when you look like this.”

I knew damn well how lucky I was.

My wife was rather fit, 130lbs of lean muscle. Her muscular body marveled in contrast with mine.

There had been many times where I came early, merely from looking at my wife and humping my own fat.

But tonight, my partner treated me to oral.

I felt her kiss around my thighs and play with my tip. I couldn’t see any part of her over my belly.

She took my full dick into her mouth, sucking on it and cupping my balls in her hand.

I came in seconds.

Of course, I was already out of breath from the activity. But, now, it was her turn.

My wife laboredly rolled me over and forced my mouth down to her pussy. I instinctively began licking. I felt her strong thighs grip my head and her hips roll as she began grinding into my mouth.

After the most exorcise i’d had all week, my wife finally came.

I fell onto her, my head resting on her abs. I felt the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.

Her hand made its way into my hair.

She told me I was a good boy, and we fell asleep in eachother’s arms.