Ample Apple Alyssa

Chapter 1 - The Heat of the Night

The bass thumped through the crowded bar, a pulse that vibrated in Alyssa’s chest as she leaned against the polished counter, her third mojito sweating in her hand. At 35, she still turned heads, and tonight was no exception. Her dark brown hair cascaded in loose waves over her shoulders, framing a face that was undeniably pretty—high cheekbones, full lips, and those brown eyes that sparkled with mischief under the dim lights. Her radiant smile, with teeth so white they practically glowed, drew people in like moths to a flame. She was 5’6”, her frame a tantalizing mix of curves and softness, her 160 pounds settling into her body in ways that made her both alluring and human. Her boobs, heavy D-cups, strained against the low-cut black top she wore, the fabric hugging the generous swell of her chest, drawing eyes with every subtle sway of her hips. Her belly, though, was her secret insecurity—a fleshy, doughy protrusion that sagged just enough to remind her she wasn’t 25 anymore. It wasn’t fat, not yet, but it was soft, pliable, a testament to her weekend indulgences. Her long, thin legs, showcased in tight jeans, stretched endlessly beneath, a contrast to the gentle roundness above.
Alyssa was a paradox: disciplined during the week, sweating through spin classes and nibbling on kale salads, only to unravel spectacularly come Friday night. Happy hours bled into late-night tacos, fancy dinners with friends turned into dessert platters, and the weekends—oh, the weekends—were a hedonistic blur of cocktails, greasy bar food, and no regrets until Monday’s mirror check. She knew her doughy belly was the price of her party-girl lifestyle, but at 35, the calories clung harder, her metabolism no longer the forgiving ally of her twenties. Still, she loved the rush of the night, the way eyes lingered on her curves, the way her laugh could pull a stranger into her orbit.
Tonight, the bar was alive, a sea of bodies and laughter, and Alyssa was in her element. She tossed her hair, her smile flashing as she traded banter with her girlfriends, their voices rising over the music. She felt the familiar buzz of alcohol warming her blood, loosening her inhibitions. That’s when she saw him—across the bar, his gaze locked on her like a predator sizing up prey. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a rugged charm that made her pulse quicken. Dark hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and eyes that held a quiet intensity. He wasn’t her usual type—too reserved, too deliberate—but there was something about the way he watched her, a hunger that sent a shiver down her spine.
His name was Ethan, she learned, when he finally approached, offering to buy her a drink. His voice was low, smooth, like whiskey over ice, and Alyssa felt herself leaning into him, her body responding before her mind caught up. They talked, laughed, the conversation flowing as easily as the drinks. He was witty, attentive, his eyes never straying from her, even when her girlfriends tried to pull her back to the dance floor. Ethan’s gaze lingered on her curves, on the way her top clung to her heavy breasts, on the soft swell of her belly that peeked out when she stretched. She didn’t notice the way his eyes darkened with something more than lust, something calculated, as he took in her body—the potential, the softness that could be coaxed into so much more.
Alyssa was smitten. Ethan was different, she thought, not like the flaky guys she usually met, the ones who ghosted after a night of fun. He listened, really listened, and when he brushed his hand against hers, a jolt of electricity shot through her. By the end of the night, they were pressed close in a dark corner of the bar, her body humming with desire. His hands found her waist, fingers grazing the doughy flesh of her belly, and she flushed, suddenly self-conscious. But Ethan’s touch was reverent, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “You’re fucking gorgeous, Alyssa.” Her knees weakened, her resolve crumbling under the weight of his words.
They kissed, a slow, hungry clash of lips and tongues that left her breathless. His hands roamed, bolder now, cupping her heavy breasts, squeezing the soft flesh of her belly, and Alyssa moaned into his mouth, lost in the heat of it. She didn’t care that they were in public, didn’t care that her friends were probably watching. All she wanted was more—more of his touch, more of the way he made her feel like the only woman in the room. When he suggested they leave, she didn’t hesitate, her hand in his as they stumbled into the cool night air, her body thrumming with anticipation.
Ethan’s apartment was sleek, modern, a bachelor pad with just enough charm to feel lived-in. They barely made it through the door before he was on her again, his hands tearing at her clothes, her top hitting the floor to reveal the lacy black bra straining against her D-cups. He groaned at the sight, his lips finding the sensitive skin of her neck as he backed her toward the couch. Alyssa’s hands fumbled with his shirt, her fingers tracing the hard planes of his chest, but it was his touch that consumed her—rough, possessive, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her belly, kneading the doughy roll that hung over her jeans. She gasped, a mix of embarrassment and arousal, but Ethan’s eyes were wild with want, his voice a low growl. “God, you’re perfect,” he said, and she believed him, her insecurities melting under the heat of his desire.
He stripped her jeans away, revealing the long, thin legs that contrasted so deliciously with her softer middle. Her panties were next, and then she was bare before him, her body a landscape of curves and softness. Ethan’s hands explored every inch, lingering on her belly, his fingers sinking into the pliable flesh, tracing the faint stretch marks that whispered of her indulgences. Alyssa’s breath hitched as he kissed her there, his lips grazing the doughy swell, his tongue dipping into the shallow indent of her navel. It was intimate, raw, and she felt exposed in a way that made her ache with need.
When he took her, it was slow at first, deliberate, his body pressing into hers as they moved together on the couch. Alyssa’s breasts bounced with each thrust, her belly jiggling softly, and Ethan’s eyes drank it all in, his hands gripping her hips, her thighs, her belly. She came apart under him, her cries echoing in the quiet apartment, her body trembling with the intensity of it. He followed soon after, his release a low groan against her neck, and they collapsed together, sweaty and spent, her curves pressed against his hard frame.
As they lay there, Alyssa’s head on his chest, she felt a warmth she hadn’t known in years. Ethan was different, she thought again, her heart swelling with hope. She didn’t see the faint smile that curved his lips, the one that held a secret she couldn’t yet fathom. Ethan was a feeder, a man with a singular obsession: to see a woman’s body bloom into fullness, to coax her curves into lush, decadent fatness. Alyssa, with her doughy belly and penchant for excess, was his perfect muse. He’d seen it in her the moment they met—the potential for her belly to grow, to sag lower, to become a soft, heavy expanse that jiggled with every step. Her breasts, already so full, could swell further, her hips widen, her thighs thicken. She was a canvas, and he was an artist with a plan.
He wouldn’t tell her, not yet. For now, he’d spoil her, woo her, make her fall so hard she’d never see it coming. He’d take her to lavish dinners, ply her with rich desserts, encourage her to indulge in every craving. He’d watch her eat, his cock hardening at the sight of her lips closing around a creamy bite of cheesecake, her belly bloating slightly with each excessive meal. He’d *** senseless, worshipping her growing body, whispering praises that made her feel like a goddess. And Alyssa, sweet, smitten Alyssa, with her love of excess and her crumbling willpower, would let it happen, her body softening, rounding, fattening under his careful orchestration.
As Alyssa drifted to sleep in his arms, Ethan’s mind was already spinning, plotting the first steps. Tomorrow, he’d take her to brunch, a place with bottomless mimosas and plates piled high with pancakes and bacon. He’d watch her eat, her belly straining against her jeans, and he’d smile, knowing this was only the beginning. Alyssa’s body, already so ripe with potential, was about to embark on a transformation she’d never see coming. And Ethan would be there, every step of the way, feeding her, loving her, plumping her into the vision he’d always craved.