Back When We First Met

Chapter 1

When I get home from work I see you asleep on the couch. It's obvious from the empty fast food
wrappers scattered across the coffee table and the sauce stains on your hoodie that this isn't
just an afternoon nap, this is a food coma after another long day of zero self control. And
goddamn do you look beautiful. A piggy princess in total bliss with one hand resting on your full
round belly peeking out through the strained elastic bottom of your favorite hoodie.

But I can remember when that hoodie was your favorite because you liked how baggy it was.
Back when we first met your gut was a mere pooch, only noticeable in your tightest tank top.
You weren't what most would call thin, and you certainly still enjoyed food of all sorts, but it was
clear back then that you worked hard to maintain the body you had. Hitting the gym regularly
and trying not to indulge all of your cravings.

Then you met me and slowly started to let loose. I encouraged you to order desert everytime I
took you out to eat, and every time you spent the night I made sure to get you doughnuts in the
morning. I always did my best to persuade you to stay home and watch a movie with me every
time you felt like you should go to the gym. But I can't take all the credit; you were always closet
piggy, I just helped to let you out. You never took much convincing to order dessert, and
whenever I'd buy you doughnuts you'd eat the whole dozen. After a couple months with me you
cancelled your gym membership all together. All the while you're clothes shrank and your
appetite grew bigger.

After the first few pounds I could tell you were starting to get a little self-conscious. You always
tried to pretend you didn't want the last cream-filled doughnut or that the empty take-out boxes
at your place were your roommates'.

I remember there was that one time when you went a little overboard at your favorite Italian
place. You had already cleaned your plate of alfredo, half my plate of lasagna, eaten who knows
how many breadsticks, and you were on your third cannoli when under the trance of gluttony
you let out a huge belch and just then the button popped off your genes with an audible "ping"
as it ricocheted off the bottom of the table. Your immediately snapped out of your trance and
your face glowed bright red. You leaned across the table, bumping it with your distended gut,
and whispered, "we've got to go". You didn't know at the time, but I was more turned on than I
had ever been in my life and sure that I was in love. I paid the check, handed you my jacket,
helped you out of the booth, and we walked out while trying to ignore the stares and whispers of
the other patrons.

When we made it to the care you were mortified and on the brink of tears. You sat down in the
passenger seat and put your head in your hands and told me you were so ashamed of acting
like such a pig. I wanted to tell you that you were absolutely a pig and how much I loved it, but I
managed to stifle that and instead told you that there was nothing to be ashamed of, those
genes were old anyway. You looked up at me with puffy eyes and said, "so you're not
embarrassed of me?"

"Of course not!", I replied, "you're the most gorgeous girl I've ever met, and I consider it a
privilege getting to take you out and spoil you whenever I can". You leaned over to kiss me, not
being able to make it all the way because of your obtrusively full belly, and I met you half-way,
then looked over at you wryly and said, "I could go for some ice-cream right about now, how
'bout you?"

That made you perk right up, and when you did your shirt rode up, revealing that big ball of fat
and pasta resting in your lap. You tugged your shirt down self-consciously and replied, "Well I
didn't get to finish my cannoli..."

When we got to the ice-cream shop I was admittedly a little shocked when you ordered the
brownie-fudge sundae (one of the biggest things on the menu). I didn't think you'd be
completely over the ordeal at the Italian place, but maybe the sundae was just to help you
forget. You definitely seemed to forget the meal and a half you had just had because you
demolished that sundae like you hadn't had dinner yet. You leaned back in your chair, eyes
slightly glazed over, set your hand on your belly, which your shirt was failing to fully conceal and
moaned, "You're too good to me. If you keep treating me like this you're gonna have a fatty for a
girlfriend". I replied that there were worse things in the world, but you didn't seem to hear me through your chocolate and ice cream daze.

You settled into a deep food coma on the way back to my place, and I couldn't resist reaching over to give you a belly rub after everything I had witnessed that night. You were fast asleep but you still let out a couple moans of pleasure.