Chapter 1 - help fattening peter

When I first met my husband Peter, he was very self-conscious about his weight. He was a little bit chubby, certainly not as big as most people. Then, after we got married, he almost became obsessed with his weight. The fact is that he was getting fat and he didn't like it. I actually thought that the post-wedding weight he gained looked great on him. Of course, I didn't let him know that. Not at first.

My name is Nancy, and I was somewhat of a closet female fat admirer until Peter started gaining weight. I don't think I even understood my secret desires until then. Peter's almost-slender muscular-but-chubby ex-jock build was just the sort of male bod which had always seemed attractive to me. All that changed when Peter began to soften, and I realized the joy of rubbing his large soft round belly and fondling his love handles.

Peter packed on 20 pounds just during our honeymoon cruise. Each day, he would hit the buffets, then take a nap on the deck. Within a few days his belly was ballooning out as his Speedo swimsuit grew tighter and tighter on his expanding rear.

Peter thought that if he let himself go, then I would dump him. I didn't let on that nothing could be further from the truth, that I was enjoying watching him plumpen so nicely. When we got home from the honeymoon, he resolved to lose weight. But his appetite had somehow been turned on, and he ate thousands and thousands of calories each day. I made sure there was plenty of food - especially his favorites - around the house to tempt him, and he binged almost constantly.

However, also each day, he went to the gym and exercised. In addition, he began taking narcotic diet pills. I did not know about the pills. At 5'8" and 195 pounds, he actually seemed much too thin for me. I liked Peter growing chubbier, and I felt lonely and fearful when he was away to the gym. I imagined him losing his belly and those luscious love handles he had grown. It was not at all what I had in mind for his future.

One day when I came home from work, I found Peter acting strangely. He was sweating, listless and depressed. That's when he finally confessed about the diet pills. I decided it was time for a big change in Peter's life. I threw away his diet pills and cancelled his gym membership. I told Peter that I didn't want him to lose weight, that I wanted him to be happy. I didn't want a skinny Peter.

In fact, I wanted him to become immensely fat, and I told him so. Peter looked confused but also a bit relieved. Because I was earning a top executive salary now, he agreed to quit his low-paying menial job - in order to start feeling better about himself. I immediately got him an appointment with a psychiatrist who gave him medications to help him with his depression. Little did Peter suspect, but I talked the shrink into choosing a medication with specific side effects - increase in appetite, sluggishness and, of course, weight gain.

In no time, Peter accepted the idea of gaining weight instead of losing. He seemed happier than he ever had been. He loved the idea of not ever having to diet again. I was freeing him, giving him permission to eat whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted and in whatever quantity he desired.

Still, I wondered about his commitment, and I decided to make sure he never tried to lose weight again. In fact, I planned to fatten him up to huge proportions. The next day, I hired Marcus, a handsome, slender housekeeper and culinary-school-trained chef. Marcus was a muscular 6'1" with a 30-inch waistline, a wide chest and buns of steel - the kind of guy most girls would just swoon over. Or so society tells us. For me, Marcus seemed not really all that interesting to a now-confirmed chubby chaser like me.

I wanted a fat man, and perhaps more important, a man who was getting fatter and fatter.

I introduced Marcus to Peter as his new live-in butler, companion and, most of all, chef. Marcus's job was simple: Take care of the household, and make Peter into a super fatty.

Marcus took his job very seriously, and Peter responded just as I had hoped. Marcus was always whipping up something sinfully tempting in the kitchen while Peter sat in his reclining chair watching TV and stuffing his face.

Truth be told, I also found the aromas from Marcus's cooking to be so intoxicating that I soon began overindulging much of the time, always reminding myself to go do aerobics so that I would not suffer Peter's fat fate. Still, a few pounds crept onto my body - but it was a small price to pay for a bigger Peter.

With Peter, the gain was more than a just a few pounds. Results appeared quickly with Peter hitting the 250-pound mark in just three months. Time was, when I would have been satisfied with a 250-pound Peter, but now, I wanted more.

I confided in Marcus that I wanted Peter's weight much higher than that. Peter loved being treated like a king. He often ordered Marcus to feed him by hand just because he knew that it turned me on a little to watch slender Marcus stuff Peter's round belly full of fattening food.

Marcus took extreme pride in Peter's expanding body. One day, he patted Peter's belly and squeezed his love handles while saying, "My meals and desserts are certainly making you more and more desirable." He paused, looking a bit shocked at his words. An awkward pause, and then he recovered, muttering, "I mean more and more desirable for your wife."

I found something so erotic about this, but I said nothing.

Soon, there was no question that Marcus was falling for Peter. Not that I cared. There was going to be plenty of Peter to go around, once Marcus and I were done with him. Done with him? Haha, I suspected that Marcus and I would never be truly done with this project. And besides, I was more than a bit turned on by the fact Marcus also being aroused by Peter's rapid fattening.

And as I said, I was also picking up a few pounds, well, maybe more than a few. I had now grown a potbelly and noticeable love handles.

"Better watch out," Peter would say. "You're liable to let Marcus's cooking make you as fat as me." We would laugh, and I watched in fascination as Peter's gelatinous gut and little man-boobs would jiggle.

But then, I looked down in horror to notice that my own flabby midsection was also now jiggling. I resolved to go to the gym and join an exercise class.

Of course, I never went. Little did I know but allowing Marcus to take over the running of the household meant that he was also taking care of our finances more and more. And one thing he did without asking was cancel my gym membership.

When I found out, he merely smirked and said, "Well, you never go." And then he cut me a huge piece of German chocolate cake - one of his specialties.

I nodded as I dug into the cake, taking a huge bite and sighing, feeling the constraining pressure of my too-tight waistband.

"Besides, we need that money to buy you a new wardrobe," he added as I unbuttoned my pants, allowing my midsection to expand, but more importantly, allowing me some more space for that chocolate cake to settle.