When I say I’ll always remember meeting and getting to know my wife, I’m not saying that’s unusual. Lexi’s a difficult woman to forget, as pretty as she is, with the way she throws her weight around, sometimes literally, over the course of a conversation.
Tyler introduced us under the pavilion in the quad, and instantly, what she wore that day ingrained her in my subconscious as a goddess. Black jeans, black shirt, silver cross hanging between her tits, I don’t know if she’d picked those colors for their ‘slimming effect,’ but the soft, meaty bulk of her body canceled that out entirely. Sitting still, her ass spread out against the bench, wide, straining the stitching on her seams, her belly poured out into her lap, even. There were chocolate stains around her lips, and her tongue kept flicking out at them, trying to secure the wayward calories.
Looking at her phone, she was laughing, loud, proper belly laughs that reverberated across the jelly-soft surface of her full, fleshy figure for seconds after she’d stopped. She saw Tyler and grinned, “Oh my god, Tyler!” She exclaimed, reaching out and snatching his sleeve, “You’re not even gonna believe what happened this past weekend!”
Her thick Louisiana accent, how fast she spoke, she was hard to understand at first, but I learned how to ‘talk Lexi,’ as she put it, soon enough. She was talking about a guy who’d asked her to marry him, a much older man, 31 to her 19. She was waving her arms wildly, chubby cheeks distorted by the size of her grin, “And I told him, he was too old! I mean, I tried to be nice, but can you believe him?” She ran her hands down her thick, plush body, “Tried to be nice, he just couldn’t resist all this! Most guys can’t, y’know!” She laughed, then noticed me standing there. She looked back to Tyler; I guess she’d seen us hanging out, “And who’s this one?”
“Ooooh!” She exclaimed, straightening up, excited. She waggled her eyebrows, “Does Ty-Ty got himself a new boyfriend?”
Tyler laughed, a bit nervously, “No, no! This is Tim!” He pointed between us, “Tim, Lexi. Lexi, Tim.” He shrugged, adding for clarification, “He’s straight.”
With that, Lexi leapt to her feet from the rough wooden bench with a dull, heavy thud. She grabbed at her gut to stop the wobbling and stepped closer with examining eyes, “Straight, huh?” She walked a circle around me, pursing her lips, looking closely, muttering, “Hmm… Not bad… Maybe.”
“Maybe?” I had to ask, “Maybe… What?”
She spun in a circle, gave me a view of all of her bulging body, then walked slowly back to the bench, swung her well-fed hips to make a show, “Maybe you could handle this.” She said, chuckling and twisting around, plopping her double-wide donk down onto the poor bench. She leaned back, confident even as her belly poured into her lap. She yawned, and a splash of lily-white gut meat appeared for half a second before she tugged her shirt down, scratched, “I’m kind of a lot to handle.” She proudly declared, cocking one hip to the left, creating a bakery’s worth of jelly rolls down her side, “Whole lotta woman!”
“You offering?”
“Not really.” She responded, “Storing that option for the future.” She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow, “Maybe. Possibly. You’re sorta cute with your adorably little baby face!” She shook her head at my nerve. Then she turned back to Tyler, giggled, and switching topic back to the guy she’d rejected, “I swear, guys just keep falling in love with me!”
At that point, I wasn’t one of them. She was sexy, yes, cute face, wild black hair and a plush, curvaceous body, but I left the pavilion storing her away in the spank bank, not as relationship material. Too loud, too arrogant for my tastes, but she was worth hanging around for other reasons.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
The next I saw her was in the cafeteria, by the trash cans, sitting with another good friend, Reagan. She was excited at my arrival, but not for me, necessarily, “Timmy!” She squealed, “Timmy-boy! Reagan, move your fat ass over, make room!” She shoved Reagan in her soft, plump side, pushing hopelessly at our severely overweight, mutual friend’s gelatinous 200 pound mass until Reagan groaned, scooted over in annoyance.
My ideal situation, two overfed, gluttonous beauties on either side. Lexi thrust her hip to the side, moving her chair closer to me and leaning her pudgy shoulder against mine, “So, Timmy-boy…” She purred, “You weren’t planning on eating all that, were you?” She reached out, nudged the plastic plate they’d used to serve me cake, “I can have this, right? Can’t I?”
I’m not a big desserts fan, but I am a fan of fat chicks eating extra desserts, so I shrugged, “Yeah, sure. It was probably gonna go to waste anyway.”
Lexi yelped with pure, uninhibited happiness and snatched it up.
Reagan, on my other side, laughed, shook her head in disbelief, “Wow, Lexi. Just… Wow.”
Lexi was too busy with the cake to answer, so I turned my questioning gaze to Reagan. She looked stuffed to the brim; her pants were unbuttoned; her face was red, and her breath was tortured. She was leaned in her chair and her hands feverishly massaging her tummy as I asked, “Wow? Why wow?”
Reagan sighed, “Fuckin’ Lexi, still eating, like she ain’t gone through something like six plates of food already.”
Lexi was finishing up, licking frosting from her finger, pulling it out with a satisfying ‘pop,’ “Hey, all I’m doin’ is keepin’ people from wastin’ food!” She argued, before grabbing the arm of a plump Freshman girl and saying very sweetly, “Aw, baby, look at all this that’s still on your plate! Were you gonna throw all this out?”
The girl bit her lip, she looked like she’d been caught in the headlights, “I… Yes? I mean… I’m pretty full…” She rubbed her pudgy gut like that bulging ring of chub around her waist was just food.
Smiling bigger, voice dripping with honey, “Aww! Here, just give it to me,” she purred as she lifted a plate of pizza, two chicken strips, half a bowl of mac and cheese from the tray, more than happy to claim it for herself, “I’ll take care of it, for you!”
The girl’s eyes widened, Lexi’s tray was covered, every inch of it by clean plates. She bit her lip, held back a warning about the calories, and all but ran away. Lexi pumped her arm, cheering, “Yessss!”
Reagan shook her head, “How the fuck are you still hungry?”
Lexi laughed, but it wasn’t the same raucous belly laugh I remembered. There was an element of pain, a subtle wince with each guffaw, “The hell said I was hungry?” Lexi asked, “I’m doing the world a service!” She took a bite of pizza, “No more wasted food!”
“You realize you’re literally eating like a trash can, right now?” Reagan grumbled.
Lexi snorted, swallowed, “Trash cans ’round here eat pretty damn good, then!”
I had to speak up, “You’re not worried, though? I mean, the Freshman 15, all of that?”
Lexi put down her food and smiled at me, so condescending, “Aww! No!” She told me, picking up a chicken strip and chomping into it, “I gained that shit last year!”
Reagan rolled her eyes, “You do realize it’s not limited to Freshman, right?”
Lexi rolled her eyes right back, “Really? So is that why…” She widened her eyes and lowered her voice, “Is that why you had to undo your pants? ‘Cause you’re getting fat? Reagan, be real. You getting fat? Again?”
I laughed, and Reagan shot me a death stare. She glared at Lexi, hand covering her loosened button defensively, whispering angrily, “Yeah, okay?”
Lexi nodded, “Thought so. How much?”
Reagan’s nostrils flared, her tone was venomous, honest, “I’ve gained like, nine pounds, okay?” Lexi let out a low whistle, teasing, and Reagan exploded, “Fuck you, okay? It’s your damn fault, your constantly-hungry ass bringing me around food every ten minutes!”
Lexi shook her head, “Still though! Nine pounds? Shit, girl, you really need to be watching what you eat! It’s not even Halloween and you’re already so big?” She scoffed, “Hoo-wee, baby! I got bad news from the future concerning your hugeness!”
Reagan was getting annoyed, but she looked too full to stand, let alone storm off angrily, “Yeah? And what about you? Only reason your pants are still together is ’cause they stretch! How huge have you gotten?”
Lexi smirked, “Dunno.” She leaned back with a heavy, hearty groaning, “Mmmph! Ugh, you was right though, this is… too much. I feel like a friggin’ bowling ball or some shit, can’t hardly move right now!” She reached down, locked her hands together, put pressure on the semi-solid bowl of jelly that was her packed-to-capacity middle, erupting in a gross, echoing belch. She laughed, looked so happy at the shocked faces turning to see the source of that sickening emission, “‘Scuse me!” She called out, dancing in her seat, almost.
She was proud of herself, and I was impressed. This was a girl who knew both how to eat and what to do when she ate too much. Still as full of herself as she was of cafeteria junk food, but that ratcheted up her hotness levels by a few points for sure.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
I started hanging around Lexi pretty often, if only for the near certainty that at some point, she’d eat too much or make a show of her size. I heard a lot of things from her, about her, where she grew up, which guys she was into. Reagan and Tyler were usually there, but Lexi’s a power unto herself, she’s got charisma a stage actor could only dream of, an appetite to dwarf most competitive eating champions, and a body that betrays that fact about her.
Let’s skip ahead, most of the semester, the whole year in fact, I definitely enjoyed my time with Lexi, but it was more for the memories I’d remember later than it was for the girl herself.
So let me set the scene. School’s a month from being over, and I’m walking around aimlessly after my class wraps up. I find her in the cafeteria, which isn’t at all unusual, but for the first time, I think, she’s all alone, eating a table weighed down with spaghetti, all by herself, and I notice the staff giving her looks of pity.
As I come closer, I pick up more information, one piece at a time. I’m coming towards her from behind, all I can see is her hunched back, the fat pouring over the sides of her chair. Her jeans look near-splitting, the stitches can almost be counted; they’re stretched so far apart.
She doesn’t even notice me; she’s lost in her piggishness. She finishes a plate, licks the parmesan and tomato from the plastic tray and launches into the next. It’s only as I come around to the front that I realize she’s quietly crying.
I sit down across from her, and my presence seemed to wake her from the unconscious, unrelenting gluttony. She flushed pink, “Timmy!” She yelped, grabbing a napkin and wiping dry her round cheeks, “How… How long’ve you been here?”
“Not long.” I assured her, ‘just the last three plates,’ I thought but never said, “Are you… What’s wrong?”
She sniffled, put on a brave face, “What, a girl can’t eat her fill without there bein’ somethin’ wrong?”
“Lexi.” I answered, “I’m not stupid. You were crying, and I’m not gonna say you’re normally eating salads, but,” she snorted, half-amused by the thought of a salad, “this is something else. This is ‘swallow your feelings’ kind of eating. Tell me. What’s wrong? What happened?”
She bit her lip, and answered in a quieter voice than I’ve ever heard from her, “Michael dumped me.” She choked back a sob, “He said I was getting way too fat.”
I tightened, sympathy ran through me. She’d never been so open with me. I hesitated, had to think before I said honestly, “He’s an idiot. You just have curves.”
She slumped, frowned, “Yeah. Right. Curves. Lots of curves.” She grabbed her potbelly, fingers sinking into the thick layer of fat, “All the wrong places.”
“No.” I assured her, and even I was surprised how confident I sounded, “All the curves. No wrong places. Lexi, you’re absolutely amazing the way you are.”
Lexi blinked, wiped the budding tears from her eyes. She shut up for a second as things processed. She bit her lip, subtly, and something changed in how she looked at me. She nodded slowly, “Hey Tim…” She wondered, “What… What are you doing this Saturday?”
“I think…” I examined her face, the expression, the glimmer of desire deep in her hazel eyes, and I felt sure, “I think I’m taking a pretty, perfectly curvy woman out on a date. Probably get some food,” I half expecting her to laugh and reject me, but it wasn’t happening, so I pressed on. “maybe… Maybe back to my place, later?”
Lexi snorted, and the faintest trace of a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth, “Definitely. Your place. You’ll be picking her up at what, eight?”
I smiled, relieved, “Yeah, I’m thinking we’ll get some food. All the time I’ve known this girl, I don’t think she’s turned down food once.”
Lexi laughed at that, “Yeah, you should probably bring a bunch of cash, somethin’ tells me this chick eats a lot!”
I winked, eyed the stretched fabric at her thighs, moved up, lingering over the bulging flesh of her tummy, making my way to her breasts, modestly-sized only in comparison to the rest of her. I nodded, “She does. Gotta keep her curves!”Saturday happened, the date went well, an all-you-can-eat buffet threw us out after an hour of Lexi’s eating and a second where I did my best to appease her unrelenting appetite, ferrying plate after plate to the goddess of gluttony, herself. Her blouse grew tighter and tighter the more she ate.
Leaving was difficult, Lexi struggled to support her own weight, and I’m only so strong. Needed a waiter’s help to get her out to the car, took it on myself to hoist her into the car, hands sinking deep into the soft squish of her bottom half, pushing up, both of us groaning for different reasons, me for the weight I was lifting, her for the pressure in her gut.
We drove around before heading home to the apartment, let Lexi digest. She kept begging me to stop at fast food joints, and I kept refusing, though I wanted little more than to see this magnificent specimen of womanly greed to finally hit her limit. Told her I’d stop if she could walk in under her own power, she pouted; that was not happening, not yet. We drove to the campus lake, only a few streets from my apartment complex, switched on some music.
I couldn’t tell you what song, what band was playing, but just ask me about the feel of Lexi’s body, how long it took to get her shirt off. I broke the chain of her cross without noticing, and I don’t think she did, either. She might have, but she was in too deep with the heat of the moment, and too lazy to pull it back from under the seat.
A crescent moon reflected off the water and through the windshield, casting a blue glow on us both. I had her almost nude from the waist up; my hands explored the smooth, cream-colored space, sinking deep, searching for any trace of long-buried musculature, finding only fat and beneath that, the tight-packed swell of her full belly. I massaged that boulder-sized lump while we kissed, and she pulled me closer, up from my seat, almost into the passenger’s seat, having her way with me.
When she was out of breath, she threw me to the driver’s side and leaned back gasping. Her face, her proud potbelly too, shimmered, glistened softly, a layer of sweat giving her heavy, butter-soft body a sensual sheen. Her hair was wild, her cheeks flushed, and her breathing was rapid, “Take…” She gasped. She paused, then inhaled deeply, telling me in two words where to go, “Your place.”
I smiled, wiped the perspiration from my own brow, “You think you’re ready?” She nodded, wordless, and I had to ask, “Think you can walk yourself in?”
She reached over and grabbed my collar, pulled me back over, wild passion in her eyes, “I’ll find a way.” She told me, then loosed her grip, falling back to her seat, “Drive.”
I did as I was told, then went back on my word. I assisted Lexi in walking, if only a little. I wrapped my arm around her approximate waistline, gripped her jelly roll as tightly as I could without tipping her off to how much I loved it. “Ugh,” she grumbled as we neared the door, “I’m so sorry, I always do this!”
I smiled, “It’s fine.” I reassured her, “Don’t even worry.” I unlocked the door, opened to the cleanest my apartment’s been in countless months.
She seemed to appreciate that, “Ooh! Cute face, great ass, and a nice place?” She laughed, “You a secret serial killer or something? How the hell are you still single?”
I chuckled, “Beats me.” I shrugged, closing one eye and leaning left, thinking, “Might be because I’m kinky.” I hinted, smirking and emphasizing to her face, “I like being in charge.” Lexi’s never been too interested in subtlety, I’d learned, “That cool with you?”
Lexi scoffed, but something seemed off. She seemed almost… Nervous? It was only her face that hinted anything, her tone, her words, seemed in line with the Lexi I knew. She sounded interested, aroused, “Try me, baby-face. Bring out the chains, whips, fuckin’ garden tools, whatever you want. We’ll see how dominant you are when you got all this” she slid her hands lightly over the pear-shaped swell of her body, “riding on top of you!”
I smirked, “So we’re doing this?”
She frowned, “And you think you’re gonna the dominant one,” She groaned, “asking all this permission!”
“Not an answer. Yes or no.”
She bit her lip, seemed strangely hesitant, “Y-yes.”
I smiled, and moved in. I grabbed what little slack there was in her pants, near the ankles. The button was already loosed, it had been since the first fifteen minutes of the date. I yanked hard on them, and they only came a third the way off. She yelped, carpet burn, I guess, but her eyes dilated, her breathing accelerated, and I knew she was into it. Another tug, and they still weren’t off, trapped under her own weight.
Took three attempts at pulling to get them off, leaving Lexi’s lacy black thong exposed, with the fat at her hips pouring over the straps. She leaned forward, or tried to, but I grabbed her wrist, pulled it behind her back. She moaned, low, sensually, as I used my Scout training, tied her hands behind her back using her own khaki pants, then moved on to what I’ve learned since leaving the Scouts. I grabbed at her muffin top and pulled roughly, forcing her up, “Come on.” I commanded, not that she had much choice, I had consent, I was in control.
We were in the bedroom. I threw her to the mattress. She squeaked; she’d landed overfull gut-first. She wriggled around, rolled over, and there was excitement in her eyes, but also nerves. I straddled her as best I could, leaning in, kissing her, sliding my hands beneath her soft, heavy mass, digging my short nails into her back just enough to make a mark. She was ready, but when I made my move, she recoiled.
That wasn’t a part of the game. This wasn’t ‘hard to get.’ It wasn’t that sort of ‘pulling away.’ She looked afraid, and I knew Lexi enough to be aware when she’s pretending. Her face is an open book, and what it said stopped me in my tracks.
I stepped out of that mode, my forehead furrowed, “Are… Are you okay?”
Lexi bit her lip, “I… I just… I’ve never…”
She stopped there, shame flooding her face and posture. “Never… What?” I asked.
Lexi breathed in deep, this seemed to be hard for her to admit, “I’m a virgin, okay? I’ve done stuff, but… never… that.” She did her best to move without use of her hands, struggled to sit up, put her back to the bed frame, frowning and looking intently at a corner of the room. She seemed ashamed.
I was lost, “V-virgin? But all you kept saying… What about all those guys…”
“Made ’em up.” Lexi admitted, “Made ’em up, or blew ’em and exaggerated. I just…” She slumped, “I know it’s messed up, I’m 19, and nothing serious? I just- I don’t—” She stopped when I started laughing. Shame was replaced by confusion, “Wait, why are… Why are you laughing?”
I tried to contain myself, “I’m laughing because you’re crazy!” Her jaw dropped, “Making up stories, trying to make it sound like, what, like you’re desirable?” I shook my head, “Lexi, I’ve been into you since the day I met you!”
Lexi looked to be struggling with this new information, “R-really?” she asked, then remembered the difference between then and the moment, approximately 40 pounds by my guess, and her face fell, “I fucked it up though, right?” she asked me, defeated, leaning to one side and frowning at the jiggling rolls that formed, “I got like, super fat after that…”
Again, I had to laugh, “Lexi! I took you out to an all-you-can-eat Chinese restaurant! You really think I’d do that if I thought your weight was a problem?” I set my hand on the still swollen dome of her tummy, I couldn’t believe what I was admitting aloud to the girl of my dreams, “I’m just hoping all this turns into more sexy!”
Lexi bit her lip, “I…” She gulped, “Really?”
I breathed in deep, bracing myself because this was where most girls dump my fat-admiring ass and disappear into the ether, “Really.”
“And you’re okay if…” Lexi seemed to have trouble saying it out loud. She exhaled loudly, centering herself, “If I get even bigger?”
I didn’t beg her to please do exactly that, I’ve scared women off that way. I went the way of understating, “I definitely don’t want you getting smaller.”
That got a laugh, “Right, ’cause I was totally planning on getting my fat ass on on a diet after finding out you’re into curvy girls who know how to eat!”
“Does that mean we’re on for a second date?”
Lexi laughed, “Getting ahead of ourselves, ain’t we! First date isn’t over yet!” Her thick, meaty thighs spread open, just enough to tease, “I think we got enough time for some fun, don’t you?”
I smiled, played dumb, “What you have in mind?”
She shook her head, holding back a laugh. She squinted, arched an alluring eyebrow, fluttering her lashes, a slight trembling in her voice “Well, I mean, I’m still tied up…”
I grinned, grabbed her by the ankles, pulled her to the edge of the bed, leaned over her, asked the kind of question I’d heard in porn once, “Looking to lose something?”
She bit her lip, “Be gentle?”
“Don’t worry,” I assured her, unclasping her bra and letting her breasts free, squeezing tight her saddlebags and diving into the warmth between her legs, coming up just long enough to let her know, “I’ll save the rough stuff for later…”
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
I know pride’s one of the seven deadly sins, but I don’t think much on that.
Between the two of us, we’re damned anyway, the number of deadlys we’re guilty of. Lexi’s the embodiment of gluttony and sloth, the way she lays around, sits at her desk every day stealing from the candy bowl. She looks like you’d think, huge as hell, soft as sin, fatter than I’d ever dreamed she’d get, and it’s perfect.
Around her, I’m no better, no less sinful. The look of her, the luxurious convex curves of her thick, over-indulged body, the roundness of her gut after an enormous meal, her fat, cellulite-ridden thunder thighs, basically everything about her 400+ pound body fills me with lust, and she knows it. She teases me relentlessly about it, makes me lift her gut fat to peer down at the scale, tell her how enormous she’s gotten. She’s proud of herself, and so am I
.
It’s taken time, years in fact, and endless dedication to unbridled hedonism for her to get so big. I’m proud of myself, too, that such a beautiful, bountiful woman would agree to marry me.
My wife’s a whale. She’s had to get her car modified to fit into the driver’s seat. We have a specific list of theaters she can go to, based on whether the armrests can be moved. She can shut down a buffet all by herself, and she’ll prove it to you. I love her; I’m proud of her.
Why shouldn’t I be?