Chapter 1 - the story

“Be fat.” That’s all he said. His voice was like velvet in her ear, wrapping around her brain and sucking her into the vortex of his will. He leaned over her shoulder in his three-piece suit, all suave and perfectly put together. His hand fit perfectly on her shoulder as she sat at the table, a feast set out before her.

She looked up to him, the spoon already in her hand. When they’d married, she’d worried for days over everything. She’d promised to be a good wife, to cook and clean, make the house spotless for him when he came back from work every day. She had tried her best to please him in every way, submitting to him and giving her all. But something had always seemed to be missing.

And now that he had said those words, and her eyes had been opened to the feast before her. This is what he wanted. This was how she could be perfect. And so she ate.

She ate every bite before her, her movements still polite and dainty, but her desire had grown. The desire to eat, to grow. To be fat. And even as she ate, she could feel him behind her. She could feel the sense of approval and pleasure emanating from him. He saw everything, and he approved.
--
A day passed into a week, and she found the greatest pleasure in what she saw in the mirror. No more girdles to cinch in her belly or keep her silhouette slim. His hands slid over her sides, her hips, her belly Even without a word, she could feel his pleasure. It was written over his face as he stood behind her, letting her see his fingers stroking the newfound plumpness of her belly.

Even when he wasn’t home, she found her day moving differently. No longer was she spending hours on her feet, scrubbing the floors in her pearls and dress. Instead, she wrapped herself in the softest silk robe and ate bon bons. Her soap operas were on, and she felt most comfortable resting on the couch with her feet up. She was doing exactly what he wanted. Be fat. There was no other desire in her mind. She could do what he asked, what he wanted.

--

The week quickly became a month. The mirror showed her progress, her change. Her limbs had become fat and flaccid. Rolls had gathered along her once slender arms, and pocked cellulite gathered on her hips and thighs. Her belly, once thin and toned, rolled over her undergarments. She stared into the mirror, lifting a heavy breast with a hand. He was not here for the moment. He was at work, her perfect provider. And she wondered if she had fulfilled all his desires. The house was not shining and spotless, but it was clean enough. And every night when he returned, his hands trailed over her flesh. Those strong hands slid beneath the silken robe, exploring and roaming, her warm rolls of fat filling his hands. She did not have the words to ask him, but she looked deep into his eyes and saw his desire. Be fat.

--

It wasn’t long before a month became a year, and she finally felt at her best. She felt the weight of his pleasure around her like warm cardigan. He had made the one request of her, and she had been happy to do it. Those simple words: Be fat. And she had embraced it wholeheartedly. Her stomach pinned her to the bed she had shared with him. Her breath was shallow and rapid, but joy was on her face whenever she felt his presence. He was quiet as ever, but the warmth of his regard always made her heart speed.

This day, he stood before her, a smile on his face. His hands measured her in silence, moving from her feet to her head. He reached her lips and kissed her, his kiss deep and demanding. Never had he expressed such a lust, but it thrilled her. She was wanted, as she ever had been.

He slowly disengaged from the kiss, taking a step back. And standing before her, he slowly removed his vest, his long, slim fingers undoing one button on a time. Once it was unfastened, he set the garment on a chair and turned back to her, still steps away. With the same precision, he unbuttoned his shirt, the warm, lustful smile never leaving his lips.

She watched him, her warm body encased all in fat still aquiver. She could only imagine what he wished to do with her, but something else crept over her. For a year, she had been driven forward with a single thought: Be fat. And now, that driving force had slipped away, drawing away from her mind like spiderwebs. Her purpose over the last year had been stolen from her, chilling her to the bone. Other thoughts began to filter in. She did not have a purpose. And yet the purpose of being the perfect housewife returned. Yet how could she? She was too fat to leave the bed. Her wide stomach covered her as an apron, and her thighs and buttocks weighed her down. Her arms felt like lead, weighed down wit such heavy rolls of fat, and her fingers had become sausages. How could she sweep and take care of the house? How would she provide meals for her husband?

He stepped forward again, his eyes heavily lidded, his smile taking on an edge she had never seen before. As if an answer to her unspoken questions, he came to her side and settled his hands beneath her chin and behind her neck. He looked at though he understood, and that he was pleased. Something in that gaze promised that she would do everything he needed. And he spoke again, his voice soft and yet somehow sharp. “You were fat.”