The snowball effect

chapter 2

I was just about entering the ninth month of pregnancy when Dante laid a bombshell on me. The kids were in bed and we were ready to collapse in ours. As I struggled out of my maternity jeans, I felt him come up behind me and wrap his arms around my gravid form.

"You are so beautiful and I'm so lucky to have you," he whispered in my ear.

I looked at us in the full length mirror on the wall. I was so wide I eclipsed his form. Besides being dominated by my huge globular pregnant belly, I was treated to the sight of doughy love handles spilling several inches over the waistband of my maternity panties. My pillowy thighs pressed together almost all the way down to my knees and melded into depressingly wide hips. The 38F bra I was wearing was visibly straining to hold in my leaky, bloated breasts.

Suffice it to say, "beautiful" is not the word I'd pick to describe my current state.

"Yeah, right," I scoffed. "You probably say that to all the fat cows you're married to."

"Don't say that," he murmured, pressing himself tighter against me and nuzzling my neck.

"Please Dante, I know I'm a whale," I protested, struggling to ignore the way his lips felt against my skin.

"You're luminous," he persisted, his hands venturing down below the equator of my belly.

I scoffed again.

"I mean it," he continued. "You are the sexiest woman in the world. You are so beautiful I can barely stand it. And when you're pregnant . . . mmmm."

I had nearly lost myself to his touches, his strong fingers expert at revving up my engine.

"Wh . . . what?" I stammered. "Especially when I'm pregnant?!"

I turned to face him. Standing in only his underwear, it was plain as day that he wasn't lying about being turned on by me.

"Um, yeah," he admitted, looking a little uncomfortable. "I guess . . . maybe I'm kind of weird like that. I've always loved you and been very attracted to you, but I've never been one of those guys who thinks women should have six packs or be a size two. I like that . . . there's more of you now."

"MORE of me?!?!" I roared, slugging his arm. "You . . . you perv! Have you been fattening me up?!"

My big, strong husband backed away, holding out his hands and shaking his head.

"No, I swear babe. I've never, ever tried to get you to gain weight. I mean it, not a single time."

I'm not sure if that was good to hear or not. At least if he was fattening me up, it wouldn't have all been my fault. But I knew deep down that I really was the only one responsible. I had ballooned up to be a fat, pregnant woman . . . and my husband thought it was hot.

Hmm . . . my husband thought it was hot.

Maybe it was the pregnancy mood swings, but my anger quickly disappeared.

"So . . . this turns you on, huh?" I asked, cocking my hip and giving him a sultry look.

Dante looked panicked. I couldn't blame him.

"It's okay . . . I was just taken by surprise," I reassured him. "I've just felt really bad about how fat I was getting . . . I thought I was letting you down."

"No, never," he comforted. "I thought you were becoming more beautiful by the day. I just didn't say anything because . . . well, it's pretty weird."

"I am glad you told me, though. Maybe it's weird, but at least I don't have to worry anymore that you find me revolting now. And there's only a couple more weeks until I'm due, so . . . maybe you should take advantage of this while you can."

He raised an eyebrow as I grabbed his hand and led him toward the bed.

"C'mon, show your big, fat, pregnant wife how much you like the way she looks."

I won't get into the details, but he did.

Thoroughly.

I actually ended up being six days overdue with Franklin. Every night we'd put the kids to bed and I'd beg him to help me move the process along with a little . . . adult exercise.

I didn't step on the scale for the first few weeks after finally giving birth, but I knew I was over 200. I was soft and round everywhere, but at least I wasn't freaking out as much. Even though I was much larger than I ever wanted to be, I had a wonderful husband who loved me very much and I truly enjoyed being a mother.

Franklin was probably close to six months old by the time I was ready to be intimate again. I knew it was hard for him to wait so long, but I needed some time. After putting the kids to bed I told him to meet me on the couch.

His eyes widened when he saw the platter with half a cheesecake in my hands. I set it between us on the couch and handed him a fork.

"Better not, still stuffed from dinner," he said, patting his substantial paunch that had continued to grow.

"Pshh, I'm not going to be the fat wife with the skinny husband," I informed him. "Now we're going to pig out on this and then you're going to haul your wife up to the bedroom and have your way with her."

"Yes ma'am!" he laughed, taking a huge bite.

Between the two of us we managed to nearly finish it off before groaning and throwing in the towel.

"Oof, too full," Dante moaned, his pants open and shirt buttons straining.

"Even my maternity jeans are feeling tight," I grunted, rolling them down to reveal my swollen gut.

"I'm not sure I can get off this couch," he sighed, rubbing his bloated midsection.

I huffed and puffed as I pushed myself to my feet. Trying (and failing) to sway sexily, I gradually disrobed completely. Standing naked before him, I massaged my tight, round belly and grabbed my fleshy hips.

"How about now?" I asked.

Less than an hour later we laid side by side, sweaty and breathless. I couldn't help but wonder if maybe number five would soon be on the way.

I just hoped Dante wouldn't mind if I let myself go a bit this time.