The snowball effect

chapter 1

It all started with a pregnancy. Well, not exactly. I actually did great during my first pregnancy, only adding about 27 pounds to my 5'8" frame. Pretty much all of it went to my pregnant bulge, the rest of my slim form stayed pretty much the same. I was down to my original weight of 135 only three months after giving birth to Ethan.

Being a new mom was a wonderful experience, and Dante is a great father. He's also fortunately a wonderful provider so I was able to stay at home and scale my marketing consulting back to part time. We were two young, fit parents who were in love with each other and possibly even more in love with our beautiful baby boy.

When Ethan turned one, Dante and I decided to start trying for a second. This was where the wheels fell off a bit. After only a few months of trying, we were delighted to find out I was pregnant again! I figured the second pregnancy should be a breeze, I already knew how to stay in great shape throughout the pregnancy so I didn't anticipate any problems.

And then we found out it was twins. And also that you start showing a lot earlier during your second pregnancy. And I learned what cravings were.

I thought I had stayed in great shape during my first pregnancy due to my great willpower, but I began to realize that I had just gotten lucky. During my second pregnancy I was totally incapable of saying no to a craving, regardless of how ridiculously unhealthy it was. Dante was an angel, never saying a negative word as I began to blossom.

At only five months, I was already sticking out nearly as much as I had when I was full term with Ethan. Not to mention, some unwanted pounds were starting to stick to my ass and thighs. Every time I would break down in hysterics Dante would take me in his arms and tell me how beautiful I was and how much he adored me.

At around seven months, he had to prove it physically as I was overcome by horniness. Every moment I could, I was dragging him away for a quick romp, simultaneously disgusted by my body and aching for his. We often had to do it doggystyle, and I can't think of a more horrific position for a pregnant woman who is packing on pounds at an alarming rate.

My huge baby belly would graze the sheets as I took position on my hands and knees, back arching from the weight. My sore, milk-filled breasts would jiggle and slap uncomfortably against my gravid gut as Dante took me from behind, his muscular body pressed against my soft, plump ass.

For the final six weeks of my pregnancy I was on bed rest, trying not to exert myself for the sake of my developing babies. I was puffy and swollen everywhere, complaining that I felt and looked like a beached whale. Both our mothers were over constantly during this time to help with Ethan and make sure I was cared for. I swear one of them was always shoving some kind of food in my face cooing that I needed to be eating for three.

When I got home from the hospital after delivering Sydney and Clara, I was still wearing my maternity clothes. I weighed in at 168, a disgusting 33 pounds over my original weight. I actually weighed more than when I was full term with Ethan.

With three little kids to take care of, you would have thought I'd naturally shed some pounds. Instead, I gained four more during the first three months. I felt enormous, buried by a ton of jiggling fat.

After one kid, I was a toned, sexy MILF. After three I was a bloated housewife, a pathetic cliche. I was one of those women I had sworn I would never be, a fat chick who had let herself go after popping out a couple kids.

I resolved that this would change. I would not accept my thick, toneless thighs or my wide, wobbling hips, or my ass that stuck out a mile behind me, or the soft gut that stuck out further than my achingly full tits.

I would change.

For some reason Danta seemed much less concerned by my inflated figure. He could scarcely keep his hands off of me, trying to initiate intimacy as soon as the doctor gave the okay. I felt so disgusted by my body that I pushed him away, but he would not be deterred.

The twins were about five months when a backrub turned more sensual. I couldn't find the will to turn him away and . . . you probably know what's coming next.

Pregnant again.

I didn't even fight it this time, what was the point? I was obviously destined to be perpetually knocked up so I just let it happen. I ate whatever I craved whenever I wanted it, and it didn't take long for it to show.

I blew up. I ballooned. I started to outgrow maternity clothes. I began to have trouble getting up off the couch. Driving became a pain as my rapidly expanding belly started to press into the wheel.

This time, however, I did take some small comfort that I was not the only one putting on some weight. Taking care of 3 kids and getting ready for a fourth was a full-time job. Fortunately Dante had recently gotten a significant promotion that came with increased responsibilities and a nice a pay raise.

The downside was that he was too busy to get to the gym on his lunch break. He was actually so busy that he was only able to grab food on his way from meeting to another, which resulted in a good amount of fast food lunches. At home, my increased appetite seemed to be rubbing off a bit on him as well.

During my first trimester, I noticed that his abs lost definition and started looking rather soft. This took a bit of sting out of the fact that the doctor was already warning me about my own gain. During the second trimester I enjoyed the sight of his formerly flat stomach starting to bulge out noticeably.

I caught him grousing about his weight once and nearly took off his head. I told him that if I was going to be huge and fat and pregnant then the least he could do was gain a few pounds along with me. He didn't bring his weight up again, even as we had to replace all his pants to accommodate his expanding waistline.

Meanwhile my weight had shot up over 200 pounds before even getting to the seventh month. I was in a full-blown waddle thanks to my spreading hips and enormous thighs. Dante was going out two or three times in the evening to get me something to satisfy my various cravings. Now he was picking up something for himself at each stop, and most nights we both went to be groaningly full.