bbyffat

I decided to take a chance and heat up the lasagna, adding a little extra cheese on top for good measure. As I took it out of the oven, I could already hear his footsteps coming down the hallway.

“Smells good in here,” he said with a grin as he walked into the kitchen. “What’s cooking?”

“Just some leftover lasagna,” I said with a shrug, trying to play it cool.

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes locking onto the dish. “Looks delicious,” he said, licking his lips. “You know, I’ve been feeling really hungry lately”

I felt a tingle of excitement run through me at his words. Was he really hinting at what I thought he was? I decided to test the waters.

“You can have as much as you want,” I said, giving him a suggestive smile. “I wouldn’t want you to go hungry, after all.”

He grinned back at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, I don’t think I’ll be going hungry tonight,” he said, winking. “Especially not with you feeding me like this.”

My heart raced as he pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. I served him a slice of lasagna, and my eyes couldn’t help but follow as he eagerly opened his mouth and took a bite.

As he chewed, I found myself fixated on how his face was looking a little chubbier. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of pleasure at the sight of him eating, and I could feel my own arousal growing with each bite he took.

“You know, babe” he said between mouthfuls. “I don’t think I can stop eating this. It’s just too good.”

I bit my lip and tried to keep my composure, but I couldn’t deny the rush I felt from his words. As he took another bite, I reached over and ran a hand over his belly, feeling the softness under his shirt.

“You’re going to have to hit the gym extra hard after this,” I teased, running my fingers over his belly. “I don’t think those pants can take much more stretching.”

He let out a low groan, his eyes closing in pleasure as he took another bite. “Who needs the gym when I have you feeding me like this?” he murmured, his hand coming to rest on my thigh. “You’re going to make me so fat, babe.”

I felt a surge of heat between my legs at his words, knowing that I was the one responsible for his growing waistline. As he finished off his plate, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction wash over me.

“More?” I asked, holding up the dish.

“Please,” he said, grinning up at me. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of your cooking.”

You just kept eating and eating. You’ve been letting yourself go for months now, overeating at every meal. You look down at your body, and you can see all the pounds you’ve put on recently.

You’ve gone up a couple sizes in pants, and now nothing fits the way it’s supposed to. Your belly gets in the way. The rest of your body is getting pudgy too. You’ve put on about a hundred pounds and it’s all gone to your belly, thighs, hips, and butt.

You’re out of shape, because the only exercise you’ve been getting is waddling to the fridge or pantry. Stairs are getting much harder, they get you out of breath embarrassingly quickly. And even hoisting yourself from a chair is a humiliating ordeal, your fat thighs quivering with effort, your ass swaying as it’s pulled forward by the momentum of rocking your fat gut out in front of you.

Everything is an effort, even eating. You wheeze a little when you stuff your face, you eat so quickly and so fucking much that you’re out of breath constantly. You prefer to have things brought to you now, it saves you the trouble.

You can feel yourself jiggle when you move, your pants got tight and then your replacement pants got tighter still. You wear mostly sweats now with plenty of room for your impossibly big belly. And now, stuffed as you are, you need someone to take care of you, reach the bloated parts of your tummy with a soothing hand, reach under your gut to get you off.

You did so well. You gobbled down everything I put in front of you, sweet and rich. Now all that food, all that excessive eating, is catching up to you. It’s really starting to show.

You sure are a sight right now, shirt riding up on your engorged belly, pants undone and straining to contain your love handles. You jiggle as you try to sit up into a more dignified position. Your stuffed stomach protests and you wrap your arms around the gigantic curve of it.

But as soon as he sees that I came home with more snacks, he perks up, and asks for more. How can I resist such a cute fatty?