You’re at the beach with your partner, wearing your favorite bikini. They keep bringing you hot dogs, ice cream, and other snacks to enjoy.
Stop, you say playfully. I’m getting fat.
You’re hardly fat, they say, rubbing your middle. You’ve barely got a tummy. Actually, they continue, gently grabbing the small roll of chub at the bottom of your tummy, I’d love to put a belly on you.
Seriously? you ask. You’d like to see me fatter?
Oh, I think you’re sexy at any size, but imagine how you’d look with a potbelly. How about we try it and if you’re not comfortable with it, we’ll stop?
You consider this offer, the opportunity to stop watching every calorie you put in your mouth, the freedom to eat whatever you want and see how you feel being bigger. Ok, I’m game, you respond.
Over the next months, your partner keeps the house filled with your favorite treats. Ice cream, cookies, chocolate - and you keep yourself filled with them. You watch your belly grow bigger and softer. Your partner checks in with you to make sure you’re still ok with this. You definitely are and you enjoy every fattening moment. You slowly outgrow your clothes and you both laugh at how you keep needing bigger sizes, and they appreciatively caress your fattening belly and ass.
By your winter vacation, you’ve long outgrown your favorite bikini and need to buy a much bigger one. You have a full-on potbelly that sticks out over the bottoms. Mmmm, your partner moans, grabbing your wide ass, you look so beautiful like this. What do you think, they ask.
You run your hands over your big, round belly, thinking about all of the treats you’ll eat on your upcoming cruise, how you’ll enjoy filling your fat gut at the endless buffet, enjoying every bite as it makes you bigger, softer, and fatter.
You respond without hesitation: I love it.
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