Chapter 3 - wedding bells and cake

"I know what's best for you," I said, grabbing his belly and pulling him toward the bedroom.

More delicious gains were not long in coming. During the fourth month, Leonard gained almost 30 pounds and he was now on the verge of becoming a portly 200 pounds. Because he had basically no muscle -- he was just skin and bones when we started -- all my efforts were making him soft and fat, and his belly took most of the gain.

Not wanting to scare him off, I tried not to be overly ecstatic about Leonard's hefty weight gain, but it was turning me on so much. I loved to massage and kneed his growing belly. It was like kneeding the dough for all the special breads I was baking to put in that belly. I joked that he was a "growing boy" in need of "minimum daily nutritional requirements" which of course involved consuming tens of thousands of calories of my delicious cooking.

All this weight gain played havoc with Leonard's wardrobe. His waist, which initially had been 30 inches, was now up to 41 inches. One Friday, after he had changed into his new XL size roomier robe, I showed him some new clothes I had bought him. The largest pair of pants had a 57-inch waistline!

Leonard eyed them like a man seeing his future for the first time. He could not believe how big they were, and he was silent for what seemed like an hour but was really only about 20 seconds.

"They're huge!" he finally said, breaking the silence. "Do you really want me to get that fat?"

"They're not so big," I said, trying to sound matter-of-factly.

"Not so big?" he said, stretching them out between his arms and holding them up to his bulging waistline.

"Anyway, at the rate you're gaining, Lenny, these may fit by Christmas and be too tight by New Year's Day."

As usual, I was right. The months went by in a blur of continuous gorging for Leonard. I stuffed him with more and more food every weekend, and the numbers on the scale marched upward at a rapid pace. Just before Thanksgiving, his weight reached 275 pounds, and I vowed to have him "over the top" by the new year.

Ironically, while Lenny's weight was ballooning, mine was plummeting. With all the attention I was paying to Lenny, I had basically lost most of my interest in eating. With his belly to fill, I no longer felt the need to overfill mine. Over eight months, my weight fell from 230 pounds to just over 155. I was in the normal weight range now, while Lenny had gone from an underweight BMI to morbidly obese.

I had become more fit and muscular, partially because I was now doing everything for Leonard -- and I mean everything! I had helped him get a telecommuting job, so he rarely left our bed, let alone our apartment.

I also was the more active partner in bed. We were having sex almost non-stop, anytime he wasn't eating, sleeping or working. And he didn't move much in bed. When we made love, any movement on his part was generally just the jiggling of his fat.

With all this sexual exercise, my figure barely hinted at my former chubbiness. My belly had lost most of its extra flesh, and my once-soft ass was now firm and rather shapely -- if I may say so myself. And Leonard, the former chubby chaser, seemed to enjoy a thin fit boyfriend, now that he had grown into such a fatty himself. It was almost as if he was turned on by his own fat body now, and the chubby he was chasing was himself. We both seemed turned on by the contrast in our sizes, how suddenly we had reversed positions, turned the tables and almost magically shifted my weight onto him.

Plus some.

"Goodness, you are turning into such a ***," I would routinely say to him, slapping his backside or reaching around him from the front and giving his soft buttocks a squeeze with my fingers.

"And I love your ass," he said. "So firm and muscular." He would stroke it and pat it as I lovingly adored his overall softness. On the rare occasion when Leonard did exert himself in bed, I loved the feel of his soft gut bouncing atop my now-slender bottom. For some strange reason, I got off on how unhealthy he had become. I loved hearing him wheeze and gasp for air after only a few minutes of movement. He had grown so wonderfully unfit.

My tummy, which had once bulged provocatively, was now nearly flat, but Leonard didn't seem to mind at all. He was getting into gluttony too much to think about my formerly soft build. His lust for my cooking had replaced any desire he had for my now-gone belly.

Or so I thought at the time.

By New Year's Even, those 57-inch-waistline pants were actually quite tight on Leonard. After almost 24 solid hours of holiday stuffing, they split apart with a loud rip just before midnight.

At that point, I oiled up Leonard's belly, gave him a wonderful massage and asked if he would marry me. We married in late June, just after the Supreme Court ruled that our love could finally be recognized all across the U.S.A.

And just after Leonard topped 325 pounds. But then, something surprising happened. When we fed each other cake at the wedding reception, he whispered in my ear, "Now, it's my turn to fatten you back up."

A week later, at our Fourth of July barbecue with friends and family, Leonard loaded my plate three times over and insisted I eat every bite.

As we watched the fireworks later, he rubbed my distended belly, whispering in my ear, "My hubby is going to grow tubby." And I began to wonder about what a big fat future we would have together.