anotherface

6 people in there as of typing due to an influx from LTC. Probably be 0 by the time you read this. May or may not continue on a semi-regular basis.

“What do you need one of those for?” he asked, undoing the first clasp and sliding his fingers down to the next. I realised that I still had my eyes jammed shut, incapable of looking at his face for fear of seeing the disappointment in his eyes. “Because I'm fat,” I uttered, waiting for the inevitable. The chuckle turned into a full laugh now. “Is that what this is about? You've put on a few pounds from comfort eating and you think I'll suddenly be disgusted by you?” “Jason it's more than a few pounds,” I retorted, opening my eyes and realising that there was anger in my tone. He shrugged again, and I didn't know whether to take hope in his nonchalance or be angered by it. “It doesn't make any difference to me, let's see what you really look like.” He slid the remaining clasps away and pulled the cincher right off me, causing me to suck my gut in as much as possible to avoid him seeing just how large I had become. He flung the constraining bit of clothing away and waited patiently, a Cheshire cat grin on his face as he stared at my waistline. I stared back at him, resolute that I wasn't going to let it out. He mimicked checking his watch, and I realised how hopeless and stupid it all was, letting it out with a gasp and watching as my belly flopped out onto my pants. Carla may have picked out nice clothing for me, but we hadn't checked what it looked like in a seated position. A round muffin top stared back at me, bulging out in a conspicuous manner and exposed to Jason's sight. “There's the rest of it,” he said, and the grin was still on his face. “You have put on a lot, haven't you?” I sighed. “I told you.” He placed his palm on the bulge that I couldn't contain, stroking it with something that looked suspiciously like affection. Was he being nice to me in spite of this? Or was he simply humouring me before the inevitable argument? “I know you don't like it, but it's kind of cute,” he murmured in my ear, slipping his hand further south and unclasping the pants. My belly spilled out further and he tugged it over the remnants of the pants. “Always wanted to tell you that you looked good with a bit of meat on your bones, but I didn't want you to think I was a freak.” It was my turn to laugh. “Are you serious? I thought you were just giving in to my whims every time we ordered out.” He shook his head and his hand cupped my belly, playing with it. “Always have liked larger ladies, just never found the right time to tell you. Thought you might be insecure, given that you weren't that large when we were last together.” I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was he really being serious or was he playing along to spare my feelings? I had to phrase the next words carefully. “I kinda like being bigger, more than a little. A lot. I need to keep growing.” He lifted a quizzical eyebrow at me. “How big are we talking here?” “How big do you want me?” I purred back in his ear, taking a chance. “Just try not to double in size, then I think we'll be okay.” I relaxed a little in his arms. It wasn't perfect, but it was more than I had ever hoped for. He clearly liked my larger frame, but he wasn't into my other desires... unless... “Can we order a pizza?” I asked in an innocent voice, sliding my hand up the inside of his thigh. “How many do you need?” he retorted, poking at me and making me jiggle. I held up two fingers and mouthed 'large' at him. He frowned at me in response. “You know I can never manage a large.” I offered him a bright smile and slipped my hand even further up his thigh. “I'll be sure to finish off whatever you can't manage.” His grin was less toothy, but I could see he was giving in to the suggestion. I hadn't realised how much I had missed using my charms to get him to do what I wanted. I dialled the number for him and handed him the phone, continuing to tease at his camo slacks with my hand in a manner he found most distracting. He could barely hold the phone as I walked my fingers over his thigh, coming dangerously close to touching him but never quite doing it. In truth it took all my restraint not to tear apart his clothes and straddle him. He finished the call and his powerful arms swept around me, I had forgotten just how much I had missed their embrace, but a dim part of me still remembered in my lust that I had to make him wait. “Not yet,” I mouthed, slapping him off me and shifting over in the sofa. “You have to promise me that you'll wait until after the pizza gets here.” He shrugged. “I've waited over a year, I guess I can wait twenty minutes.” “Such restraint,” I purred, seeing if he would start moving over. I loved teasing him, and I knew he wouldn't last twenty minutes if I decided to press him. His restraint that was, I knew he could last longer in other matters. I wriggled my way over a little closer to him now, safe in the knowledge that the movement didn't repulse him. I had missed him so much, it was time to stay close. His arm circled me, enveloping me in its safety as I cuddled into him, closing my eyes and taking in his scent with a sight of contentment. It was finally dawning on me that he was home, and right now I wanted nothing more than to be in his space. Especially if it meant teasing the fuck out of him. “I thought you said that you didn't want to do anything until the pizza got here?” he asked, voice thick with desire and his hands beginning to wander again. I batted them off but kept close, offering him a languid smile as I sank into him, he really did seem to enjoy me as I was. I only hoped he'd appreciate the sex as much as he had before. He needed this even more than I did, I could feel it in every pulse and throb of his unconcealed erection. I pressed into it mercilessly with my side, letting him feel my fleshiness and knowing that it would make it even worse for him. “Seriously Laura, I'm not going to last if you keep this up,” he said, but I didn't care. I knew exactly what his limits were and I was going to tease him until he was shaking with desire. I nipped at his neck with my teeth and he tried to respond in kind, but I averted my head with every attempt. I knew that he could easily turn my head and take what he wanted, but he enjoyed the torment just as much as I did. His breath was beginning to get ragged, I could feel the beat of his heart against me increasing with every moment. It wouldn't be long now until he jumped on me, his aching cock demanding that his own lusts be sated. I missed that, it was going to feel so good. Not quite yet though, I needed to hold him off just that little bit longer. He was all over me by the time the door rang, and despite my protests his hands were firm and needy. I eventually managed to utter the word 'pizza' between the darts of his hot tongue flicking into my mouth. He understood that I couldn't appear at the door in a state of undress and reluctantly removed himself from me. I rearranged my clothes as best I could and waited on the couch as he paid the man. The smell from the boxes was so good, and a keen rumbling sound came from my gut in anticipation of what was to come. “This had better be the greatest pizza I have ever tasted given what it just interrupted,” he said, I knew he was only half joking. Jason hated it when he was distracted in the middle of undressing me. “I want you to do me a favour now,” I said, sinking back into the couch and eyeing the boxes. “I want you to feed me a slice.” The quizzical look had returned. “Is there some pressing reason as to why you can't do it yourself?” he asked, placing one of the hot boxes down on my thighs and opening it up. “Look, it's right there for the taking.” I shook my head. “No, you don't understand, I really want you to feed it to me.” My voice had turned husky at the thought, and comprehension dawned on his face. He set the other box to the side and made his way over next to where I had sprawled, carefully lifting one of the hot slices out of the box and moving it toward my mouth. “Here comes the aeroplane!” I scowled at him. “I'm not a child, please take this seriously.” He laughed at that but put his hand up in the admission of guilt. I always found that so cute about him, how reasonable he tried to be all the time. “Okay, I'll refrain from comparing you to a kid, now open your mouth.” I did as instructed, and closed my eyes as I took the first bite, savouring the flavour and letting out a little groan of pleasure in surprise. I hadn't realised just how good it would feel, having him feed me like this. After I had finished chewing the second slice I opened my eyes again, staring at his amused face and appreciating how weird he must have found all this. I took one of his hands in mine and guided it down to my belly, letting it slide over the shirt and make it ride up over the bulge. I settled the hand there and placed my own over it, making a clawing motion that sent his fingers digging into the softness of my waist. “So you don't think I'm an ugly fat mess then?” I asked, removing my hand from his and letting him jiggle my belly with cautious motions. “No,” he breathed, feeding me another slice and letting his hand sink a little deeper. I had missed his touch so fucking much, electric thrills passed through me at the sensation as he pushed lower, nestling his hand into my panties and toying with me. It was with a supreme effort that I managed to pull him out. “Not yet,” I murmured at him, resting his hand on my swelling midriff in the hopes that it would stay there a little longer. “You're supposed to be eating, not talking,” he replied, shoving another piece of pizza into my mouth with more force than before. I tried to tell him that part of me wanted to be a fat mess, that I wanted to be huge and swell up everywhere. I couldn't get it out over the food crammed into my mouth, and chose not to complain at the predicament. By the sixth slice I had truly swollen, if he was going to have concerns about my size it was going to be now. Yet instead of commenting he simply stuck to his task with due diligence, supplying slice after slice with increasing rapidity. No sooner had I gulped down one than another came at me. Yet I didn't feel sick. I felt full, but there was no nausea at eating far faster than I had before. I revelled in it, realising that there was still plenty of space in me despite my swollen state. If he kept going he'd soon have to move on to the other box. I held a hand up and he stopped the latest slice just short of reaching my mouth. 'Lotion.' I managed between breaths, all of this eating was hard work. He was well trained, immediately getting up and heading to the bathroom in order to get the bottle for me. I just lay there, enjoying the sensation and giddy at the thought of what would happen next. As he came back I slid my shirt up over my breasts and pointed at the jiggling mass that my belly had become. When he had first met me it was a toned stomach, I found it hard to believe that he preferred this somehow. He squirted the lotion into little drops and set his hands upon me. I felt that thrill of his touch again and a pulse between my legs in anticipation. He gently stroked the contours of my form, massaging the lotion into the skin the yielded easily to his touch. I let out an appreciative moan between closed lips and that was all the encouragement he needed. “Not yet,” I smiled at him as he started to work his pants off. “There's still pizza to be eaten. I could tell now that he was beyond frustration, that if I pushed him any further he would start to get rough. I couldn't help myself though, I loved him frustrated, I loved him always wanting more. “Only a few more slices, then you can have yours,” I said, hoping that it wouldn't have grown cold by then. He nodded in acknowledgement and started to shove the slices into me vigorously. Clearly he had figured out that I liked the force, I liked the fact that he was pushing this food down me with no regard. “The box is empty, can I have some pizza now?” he asked, and I could feel there was a degree of irritation. “Of course, help yourself,” I said, gulping down the last of the final slice mid-sentence. “If you can't manage it all you know where I am.” I lay back again, easing my hand down into my pants and started pleasuring myself in front of him. “That's not fair,” he said, suddenly not having eyes on the pizza box any more. He started to come over but I waved my finger at him. “You're not coming over here unless you're bringing pizza. I'm not going to stop until I get another slice.” He sighed, but it was a good-humoured one. He knew that game I was playing now. “Fine, have one of my slices, greedy bitch.” “What was that you called me?” I asked, taking in another slice and raising my hand out away from my clit. “A greedy bitch,” he repeated, and I loved those words. The smile on my face must have been evident, as he wore that calculated look of malice I remembered so well from before. I gave him the chance to have a few slices for himself, and refrained from pleasuring myself in front of him again. The man clearly needed to eat and it wouldn't do to have him hungry and grumpy. I couldn't last, I needed another slice, he could tell by the way I was looking at the box and with another long-suffering sigh he offered up another piece of his pizza. I munched on it gratefully and was beginning to think I had over faced myself when he was suddenly on top of me, all hot breath and eager motions. My pants came off first, dragged down my chubby thighs with no small amount of effort which set them to jiggling. Then the shirt was lifted off me and I found myself really exposed to him, my bloated figure on display as I lay there on the couch. I unclipped my bra for him, letting my swelling breasts out of their cage for his eyes to feast upon. That was all the prompting he needed, practically jumping on me in his eagerness and tearing away my panties with one vigorous hand and a ripping sound. “I've missed you so fucking much,” he said, licking and nipping at my neck as he slid his fingers down into me and started to massage my clit with an eagerness that almost hurt. I didn't say anything, I was just appreciating the attention. All the other things that I wanted to do with him could wait for another time. I had missed him too, and far too much time had passed between us for the intricacies of fetishisation. I just wanted him to fuck me now, I wanted him to take me really hard and make me his again. He obliged, completely forgoing any further foreplay and shrugging his way out of the uniform as if it were a straitjacket. The awkward de-clothing phase always amused me, but I tried to keep from laughing as I knew he wouldn't appreciate that. Then we were one, a single slick pulsating mass touching and stroking and living. Our breaths came in unison, and I could feel the heat building both inside and out. “I fucking love you,” he said, chewing at my ear and raking his fingers across my sides as he slid his cock up the inside of my leg. “I love you too,” I breathed in response, not trusting my voice beyond that whisper in his ear. He pulsed against me, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around him, dragging him into me with greed and feeling him dragged down inside of me. This heavenly hardened mass of male need ramming into me and opening my cunt up like it planned to split me in two. Fuck me he was hard, a veiny throbbing member of pleasure that brought me back to the year before. Oh how I had missed his fucking cock piercing me open like this, nothing came close. His motions were frantic, a barely controlled rhythmic grinding of forms as he hammered into me harder with each stroke. There was no concern for how I was, not even a look at me as he went about taking what he needed. This was all about him, and I loved him for it, I wanted to give him my core and let him burst in sticky pleasure inside of me. His sculpted body rose and fell against mine, slapping against me in a tidal wave of desire that threatened to wash me away entirely. Explosions started to appear behind my eyes as I was roughly dragged from one plateau to the next without care. “Fuck,” I managed to moan, but my voice sounded distant in my own ear as the ravaging continued. My every aching need sated as he pushed on higher into the celestial atmosphere of my pleasure zone. The sweat-slick form of his sculpted body hardened as one as he roared in ecstasy and primal triumph, coating my insides as he shot up inside me in one great burst of resounding orgasm. I joined him as I felt it, my thighs parting as far as they could and my body wracked with shudders of intensity I hadn't dreamt of. I felt strong hands take me, his still-pulsating member slide out of me as he flipped me over and buried my face into the couch. “Again,” was all he said, parting my quivering moistness with another eager thrust and taking me from behind this time, pressing his hand on my back and forcing me to push my ass into the air. The pain was divine as he forced his way in, almost as if he wanted to rip me open in his need. He battered my quivering pussy into submission with military precision, pounding repeatedly with a vigour that spoke of a year's pent up desires spilling out into one, angry, ravenous statement. My head was dizzy with the delectation, awash in a sea of hormones and joyous re-coupling. My hands clawed across the surface of the couch as he sank deeper into me, pouring all his need into the bobbing receptacle that was my ass. All thoughts ceased in the blinding moment of pleasure. I look down at my swollen form, and discovered that I was now on my back, his lips greedily sucking and toying with my exhausted clit as he dragged the edge of his tongue across my pussy in an agonising tease. I reached out on instinct and buried his head into my sopping wetness, not caring if he could breath or not. I just wanted him to take me higher, push me beyond any feeling I had craved before. His tongue worked away at me like it was possessed, responding to me need with equal urgency, caressing and preparing me for the highs to come. Oh fuck, I felt a pulse. A solid pulse that lingered, hinting at just where I was going. He wasn't going to stop, he couldn't stop when I was like this. I couldn't stop myself. I wouldn't let him stop. The orgasm ripped through me and I kicked him off, jerking wildly into the couch and screaming with a breathless hoarseness that told me I had been making plenty of sounds already. I lay there moaning as he tried to flip me again. I couldn't find the strength to move, so he bodily lifted me into position, from which I collapsed in a shuddering heap into the couch. He sat there, watching me moan into the cushioning as I buried my head further and shivered at the spasms that still twitched through me. “I think I like the new you,” he said, crossing over to the bathroom and casually cleaning up as if nothing had happened. I tried to form words in response, but nothing came out. I was just so fucking happy. A moment later I heard a noise coming from the kitchen. I tried to raise my head but found myself too tired to bother. The microwave. The microwave was on. “I'm gonna finish off this pizza now, I'm guessing you don't want any?” I smiled at him then, and found the strength to rise. Everything was perfect.

An hour of experimenting with makeup later and I have to say I surprised myself. It had been so long since I had really dolled myself up for any occasion. There was little point in looking attractive with Jason away. I wasn't the sort to be pretty for the sake of it and he had long ago accepted that was a part of me. No doubt he expected a little effort on his behalf tonight but nowhere near the lengths I was going to. I looked good and I felt good, my worries melting away as I watched the gradual transformation unfold. Now all that was left to do was go to the airport and wait for him, however long he was going to be. I set an alarm on my phone, lay back in the sofa and rested my eyes. I awoke to the chime and immediately checked my face, making sure I hadn't plastered makeup all over the couch. I was in luck, I still looked respectable. Taking a deep breath, I stepped outside th ehouse and made my way out to the place I was finally going to get to see Jason again. The airport was relatively quiet by its standards, and I met a group of them outside of arrivals with a big banner that said 'Welcome Home Jason' on it with gaudy letters. I got the feeling they were going to shower him with ticker tape as soon as he stepped foot outside the corridor. Truth be told, I didn't know any of them that well. There were a few knowing nods and smiles and some cheap words and common courtesy, but very little else. My heart had leapt up into my mouth and seemed to refuse to leave. I sat in the corner, waiting patiently and wondering when he would appear. Unfortunately it was Sasha who made an appearance first, and she seemed to be walking from the arrivals section. I didn't question how she had got past the security, probably offered to blow them or something. She seemed super excited and my stomach flipped when she told everyone else that he was on his way out. She must have felt my anxiety because she crossed over to where I was sitting, a malicious little grin on her face. I knew exactly what she was going to say before she opened her mouth but did nothing to stop her. “Oh Laura, I can see that you tried really hard,” she sniped, making sure that nobody else was within earshot. “You're still a fat hog under all that makeup, you're going to break his heart.” She didn't sound too displeased at the prospect, we both knew she wanted him for herself and she made no effort at concealing that now in her moment of triumph. “Fortunately for him I'll be around to pick up the pieces.” I refused to give her the pleasure of a response, and stared right past her as I heard a cheer from the gathered people. He was finally home. It's a cliché to call a man 'tall, dark and handsome' these days, but that's exactly what my Jason was. He walked to the gathering of friends who were all backslaps and handshakes, but his eyes roved through the crowd until he spotted me and wandered over. Nobody cared, they all knew who I was and they all knew he had to go see me first. Except Sasha. She interposed herself between us, running toward him and jumping on him, wrapping her arms around him in an overt display clearly meant for me. “I'm so glad you're home!” she said for all to hear, and the image of their bodies together could have been used in a magazine shoot. He laughed, and my heart sank as he smiled at her. “Good to see you too, Sasha.” It was clear now, he wasn't interested in me in the slightest. She had stolen his heart with her extended conversations and subtle manoeuvring, and I was to be discarded. I watched him detach himself from her and make his way over to me, and a knowing smile lit up Sasha's features as he stared at me. “Why are you sat over there?” he asked me, opening his arms and beckoning me forward. A hope surged in my heart as I took the first tentative steps, feeling his eyes roam all over me as he took me in. He wrapped me in his embrace and our mouths met with an electricity that was undimmed by the passage of time. “I missed you,” he murmured in my ear, as I found myself sobbing and speechless. I buried my head into his chest and let it all come out, no doubt turning my makeup into a garish mess to render the situation even more hopless. “I missed you too,” I choked out, feeling the warmth of his body against mine and hoping that it wasn't for the last time. “Still love me?” He gave me a quizzical look then, as if I had told him the sky was purple. “Of course I do, what kind of fool question is that?” A laugh escaped me then, more out of relief than humour. “I just, I look a bit different now.” The smile that lit up his face was the same one that had melted my heart all those years ago. “You're still Laura as far as I can tell. We can talk about any differences later, there's a crowd watching us.” The hope flickered with his every word. What did he mean when he said that he wanted to talk about it later? Was he angry with the changes and not showing it in front of his friends? Sasha still had that smile on her face, she knew that something was wrong and was revelling in it. I wanted to punch her but I knew that it would do more harm than good to ruin Jason's homecoming. I stayed close to him for the rest of the night, vaguely listening to the chatter as we wound our way out of the airport and into a nearby bar. I made sure that Sasha didn't get any closer to him, knowing that as he drank more she'd want to make a move. It wasn't until a few hours later that a visibly drunken Jason attempted to excuse himself, no doubt exhausted from both the journey and all the talking. We walked our way out to the car and he draped himself over me with his arms. There was no hiding the change in my size from him now, drunk or not he'd notice. “You seem off tonight,” he slurred. “Are you not happy that I'm home?” I nodded tightly. “It's just been a long time.” We were quiet in the car, I think he might have dosed off at one point. My mind kept screaming at me, telling me that he was going to find out just how much had changed over the past year. That he was going to be revolted and hate me for all that I had become. That the talk we were going to have later was going to contain ultimatums and disappointment. I pulled up in the driveway and nudged him away. “We're here, you're finally home.” If I wasn't so scared I would have been thrilled to say those words. I had dreamed about doing so many times in the lonely hours. He seemed a little more lucid for having had the nap, able to grab his bags without my assistance and make his way through the door without staggering. He gave an approving whistle upon entry. “I can see that Carla has helped you clean up, this place is looking better than ever.” I should have laughed at the compliment and his perceptiveness, but I was too nervous to find any humour right now. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something?” I asked, unable to wait any longer now that we were finally alone and through the door. “About changes?” He nodded, the laugh lines leaving his face. I wished that the floor would swallow me up rather than let me face this. “A year is a long time, and I know that I'm not the man I was before I left. I had to answer the call, you know that.” I nodded, waiting patiently for the axe to fall. “Well it was bad out there, really bad. Worse than any other tour I'd done,” he sat down, head in hands, and began to weep. I stared at him, dumbstruck at the response, but my mothering instincts kicked in and I went to him, smothering him with my embrace and giving him his turn to cry into my chest. “I know I'm not the man I was before, but please don't leave me.” I blinked. “What?” “You heard me,” he forced the words out through the tears he now stifled. “I know I look beaten up and terrible, I know I've aged these last few months. I can see it every time I look at my own reflection. The lines, the grey, the haunted look that I can't fucking shake.” I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He looked just the same as before! “I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to call it quits. Especially these last few months, writing to me like we live in the 40s.” He rose from my chest with a final sniff and rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. “One last chance, that's all I'm asking. I promise I won't leave you again.” I was dumbstruck. I half expected him to start laughing and tell me it was all some stupid joke of his. Except he didn't, he just sat there, patiently waiting for my response as if his life was in my hands. “I thought I was the one who was going to be doing the begging,” I said, gesturing down with my hands. “I'm not exactly the girl you fell in love with anymore.” Now he laughed, a long and cathartic thing that was shaken out of him by necessity. “You look wonderful, I've no idea what you're talking about.” “Ditto,” I said, poking him in the chest. “We're both idiots.” “Well at least that hasn't changed then,” he quipped, fully taking me in now with his eyes. “So what's the big difference then? Have you grown a secret third arm while I wasn't looking?” It brought a chuckle from me but I stifled it. “Seriously, I'm a lot bigger than I used to be and you know it.” He shrugged. “It happens, doesn't bother me from what little I've seen.” My mouth went dry. “You want to see more, don't you?” A wordless nod was the response and his hands snaked out onto my hips, easing the dress up. I took one of his arms by the wrist and stopped him. “You might not like what you see.” “You're still my wife, I will love you no matter what you look like.” I sighed. In spite of, not because of. It was probably the best I could hope for. I longed to peel his uniform off him but the fear of revealing myself to him was like cold water on my desires. I finally let go of his wrist and he peeled away my top with an appreciative noise. “Is this new? It's nice.” I nodded. “Bought it just for this moment.” He offered me a reassuring smile and began to peel it away. I knew exactly what he was going to see and prepared for the worst. He let out a chuckle that crushed my spirits. “What is this?” I closed my eyes and tried to remember what it was called. “A waist cincher.” His hands wandered over it, feeling the texture and the clasps at the back. I remained frozen in place as he did this, waiting for his anger to rise.

I shivered, but it wasn't in disgust at myself. I enjoyed what I saw. I liked that I was larger. I knew I had been for some time as the sizes kept going up. Not once did I think I had gained anywhere close to a hundred pounds in a year. Now I had until tomorrow to lose it all. Impossible. Even if they sucked it out of me it would still take more than a day to register an appointment. I was doomed. Worst of all, I could tell exactly what Sasha had been thinking about when she called. She wanted to see Jason freak out over his whale of a wife upon his homecoming at the airport. Then she'd try to steal him away for herself, just like she had always wanted to. I staggered to my bed and kicked off the pants, lying there in a heap and knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do. I woke the following morning to the pounding of a hangover and a craving for junk. I rolled out of bed and walked over bleary-eyed to my wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear today. Today. The day Jason would get home. I poked around the clothes, trying to distract myself from that thought. I needed to get dressed and have breakfast, then think things through once I was awake enough to think. I picked out a pair of pants and a flowery top. I wasn't going to wear them to the airport but they were utilitarian enough to make do for the time being. My bra dug into me mercilessly, and the cups seemed to spill over with my cleavage. Not the most comfortable thing in the world, but I could deal with that later. I threw the top on and noted that it was slightly tighter than before. Or maybe that was my mind worrying about my size, who could tell? The pants gave me my answer. I had to return to the bed to force them on. I knew that they were the largest pair that I had left. This was bad, really bad. I had no choice. I may have been larger, but there was no way I was going to the airport spilling out of my clothing. I wouldn't dignify Sasha with that view and I certainly wouldn't be subjecting Jason to it either. I picked up the phone and dialled Carla, she'd know exactly what to do. “Hey babe, what's up?” came the cheerful tone of my best friend. “Emergency situation, Jason is coming home tonight.” There was a series of squeals at the other end of the line and I was thankful I had turned the volume down last night. “That's great news! We'll have to throw the biggest party ever!” I smiled briefly. Any excuse for her to party. “You don't understand Carla dear, I said this is an emergency.” A slight pause. “Why? What have you done?” I shook my head. “I haven't done anything. Except get fat.” A gale of laughter at the other end of the phone. “You're half my size, what are you worrying about?” “I'm worried because the last time Jason properly saw me I was half my size.” I loved Carla, but she really didn't seem to be understanding the gravity of my situation. “And you think after a year of not having any company he's going to care about that?” I had just about had enough. “I've put on a hundred pounds Carla, he's going to retch as soon as he looks at me!” I tried to keep the edge out of my voice but I found tears forming in my eyes. The joviality that had previously greeted me had vanished, in its place was that caring voice that had made her my best friend in the first place. “Well listen, you come with me and we'll go shopping together. We'll get you everything you need to wow Jason all over again, okay?” I sniffed. “Okay, I'll be over in twenty minutes.” “Deal,” she said, and promptly hung up. I threw on some shoes and appreciated the fact that I never had to worry about fitting into them. Gunned my way down the freeway and stuck the radio on for company. I have to admit, there was another reason I chose to call Carla in the first place. She's a substantial individual, much heavier than me even now, yet she bagged men and women left, right and centre with ease. A small part of me hoped that she'd tell me her secret and fix me. Assuming it was possible to fix something like this. I pulled up and she jumped in, attired in an obnoxiously bright yellow dress. “Too much?” she asked, knowing exactly what I thought about it. “Well I know exactly what your problem is,” she said as I drove off, turning down the radio to a level that didn't drown everything else out. I raised a quizzical eyebrow at her, waiting for her to inevitably continue. “You're wearing clothes that are two sizes too small for you, that simply won't work!” I stared down at my pants, which contained an uncomfortable bulge that the top failed to hide. “So what's the point in covering it all up? Jason's still going to see me when I get naked.” She laughed, and in person it was much more infectious. “You might think you're clever Laura, but when it comes to a sense in fashion, you have none.” “Hey!” I said, but couldn't think of a good counter-argument. “Precisely,” she replied, fiddling with the knob on the radio and changing it to some upbeat pop station. “Your body is a canvas to be worked with, not against. Big or small, if you stick someone in clothes that are too tiny for them they're going to look terrible. It's not about covering up, it's about flaunting what's there.” I frowned at that. This wasn't looking promising. “You want me to show Jason that I'm fat and ugly now?” Carla shook her head and poked me with her finger. “You are only as ugly as you feel. Do you think I would get half as much tail as I do if I moped around like you with your self-esteem and dress sense? Hell no! It's not about your size, it's about how you feel in yourself!” Well, I couldn't exactly use the fat argument on her, and she knew it. What harm was there in giving in to her wishes and trying to look my best for Jason? “Fine,” I finally muttered. “We'll try it your way, so long as I don't have to wear anything yellow.” She nodded. “Glad to hear it. We'll pick out something less blinding. Something that you're actually likely to wear. Can't have Jason looking at you and thinking of me now can we?” Thoughts of Sasha intruded into my head and I shook them away. Carla didn't need to get the tail end of that, especially when she was trying her best to help me at my request. “She called you, didn't she?” she asked, frustratingly perceptive. I nodded, not trusting my voice. “She's a skinny bitch who is thirsty for Jason because she can't find anyone else. I'm sure you'd die to look like her, and she has confidence too. What she doesn't have is personality.” “As opposed to my award-winning 'gets drunk and eats pizza' personality?'” I quipped back at her, feeling useless. She laughed again, and I couldn't help but smile a little. “You make it sound like there's something wrong with that. Last time I checked, your soldier boy enjoyed getting drunk and eating pizza too.” I certainly couldn't deny that. We had hosted a pizza party together that she had attended two years ago. “What if he just doesn't find me attractive any more?” I asked, knowing it was the question I feared asking the most. She paused for a moment and there was no laughter. “That happened to me once. Boy claimed that he loved me, would stay with me forever. Twenty pounds later he was gone.” “You're supposed to be reassuring me,” I prompted, not liking the negativity. “Point is, he didn't love me, did he? He just said he did. You truly love someone then it doesn't matter what shape or size they are. It's them that you love. The person.” “So you're saying it doesn't matter if he finds me unattractive?” Carla shook her head. “Of course it matters. You're worried about Jason leaving you for this Sasha bitch. If he loves you, he won't do that. The rest you can work on together.” It wasn't a perfect solution by any means, but it calmed me. I trusted Jason, I loved him with all my heart. I knew he felt the same way. He wouldn't take one look at me and leave. I had time to change my ways, to make right the wrongs. “Besides, you never know, Jason might like a little cushion for the pushing,” Carla quipped. “Carla!” I exclaimed in part-mock-outrage. “What? You weren't exactly skin and bones when you started dating him, were you?” I thought back. No, Jason had met me after the cheerleading had stopped. I had developed a little, something my mom had called natural filling out with age. I had a bit of a tummy, a bit of an ass. Sure, I could buy that he might like a bit more. Just not… this much. “Exactly,” she added, spotting the thoughtful expression on my face. “Time to give you a makeover.” I didn't enjoy shopping at the best of times, but I knew that I must suffer it out of necessity this once. Carla knew the place inside and out, and proceeded to drag me to various shops. It was like she was scoping out the place for a hit. I chuckled to myself at the thought of Carla storming the food court with two submachine guns. “Okay,” she finally said, sitting on a bench and sipping at a milkshake she had purchased on the way. “I think I've looked at every possible combination for you, now we've just got to try on the lot and see what works best.” I nodded, moving to settle down next to her before realising that she was rising again, a whirl of motion and colour. I followed her as best I could, feeling a little footsore from all this traipsing around. A few minutes later she had bundled me into a changing room with a series of coat hangers and the patience of a saint. “I want you to try on each of these and then open the curtain. We're not leaving until you find at least one you like from each store.” In all honesty I had no idea what size I was, but somehow she had guessed perfectly. I tried on outfit after outfit and each of them was comfortable. I opened the curtain and Carla offered constructive feedback on each item. Some worked, some didn't. It was like a grand experiment and her comments made me look at myself in a new light each time I stepped into the small changing room. “Okay, I like this one,” I said, pulling back the curtain and revealing a navy blue dress that didn't cling to me in any areas of concern. She nodded. “I thought you might, we'll get that one then move on to the next store.” So it began all over again, store after store, outfit after outfit. Gradually there was a convergence of styles between what Carla felt looked good on me and what I enjoyed wearing. After a while I realised that yes, I did actually enjoy wearing some of these items. I could do a lot worse than any of the items I had picked out. We made it to the last store and despite feeling a bit tired from all the endless shopping, I had to admit I was having a good time and feeling better about myself. Precisely what I had called Carla for in the first place. The third rack we visited was where I spied it. I lovely looking lighter blue top that looked suitably bright without being garish. I checked through the hangers and looked at the labels and couldn't hide my disappointment from my friend. “They don't have it in my size.” Carla shrugged. “It happens, they might have some in the back, let me ask.” She proceeded to walk up to one of the staff, who eyed her up and down but gave no hint of a smile. A warning sounded in my heart, but I paid it no heed. I was just nervous about this evening. “Can I help you?” the young man asked. “We're wondering if you have this top in a bigger size.” The contempt on the boy's face was apparent as he looked at the garment. “No, sorry.” “Can you check the back?” Carla persisted. The boy shook his head. “No stock in the back, sorry.” “You haven't checked yet, how can you know?” she asked, clearly noticing the boy's attitude too. “Look lady, we don't have any clothes for your size, alright? Now get off my back.” Carla swept past the boy, a woman on a mission, and I followed in her wake, ignoring the sour look from the boy and wondering just what she was going to do next. “Are you in charge of this store?” she asked an older-looking woman, and I closed my eyes in mortification at the scene that was about to unfold. The staff announcement came up and the young man made his way to the tills, upon sighting Carla his insolence returned. He looked ready for a fight and I suddenly felt quite frightened. “Is it true that you told this woman to get off your back?” the manager asked. “Yeah,” the boy responded, “but she...” “No buts,” the manager cut him off. “Did you also tell her that there were no clothes in her size?” Unbelievably, the boy shrugged. “What of it?” Carla looked about ready to lash out but the manager had the situation under control. “Apologise to these two ladies before you lose your job.” The boy glanced at us then, that same up-and-down look that he had given Carla before. The disgust was plain on his features. “I'm not apologising to these whales.” “Out!” bellowed the manager, grabbing the boy by the arm and steering him out of the shop. “Out with you!” she said, startling him with her strength and shoving him through the entrance. “Don't come back.” Fortunately a security guard was on patrol, or I feared the situation would have turned ugly. The boy looked ready to explode but was firmly escorted off the premises. I turned back to Carla, who had settled down now. “You really didn't need to do that, it was only a top.” She shook her head and her tone was adamant. “It wasn't about the top. I won't let anyone talk to me about my size like that unchallenged. I especially won't let anyone get away with it in a public capacity.” She was right, and I knew she was right. There were so many people who would look at her size and make a judgement call, so many hateful individuals who would judge her for her weight rather than her character. Heck, they'd probably judge me too now. She saw the comprehension in my eyes, and watched as the manager returned. “I'm dreadfully sorry you had to see that ladies, my deepest apologies. We try to find the best staff but sometimes the odd idiot slips through.” Carla nodded, mollified. “It's his problem, not yours. Would you mind searching the store for the top in question?” The manager nodded and we guided her to the item of clothing. She was swift and effective, appearing again with the correct size and scanning it through. I got my card ready but she shook her head. “This one is on us. Our way of saying sorry for having abuse hurled your way.” I stared in disbelief. “Are you serious?” The older lady smiled, and deep wrinkles appeared under her eyes. “I had a daughter like you once.” It took me until I left the store to realise what she had used the past tense. From Carla's silence it was clear she had understood well before I had. The subdued mood was slow to lift, but by the time I began to pull up at Carla's and she told me to wait there. She wandered in and returned with a bag. “Well, keep driving,” she said, clearly not willing to reveal the contents. “You're coming to mine?” I asked. “I'm not having you mess up by combining that shirt with something that clashes. Besides, I'm sure the place is a tip.” She was right of course, the cans still lay in the same place as last night, fighting for floor space with a pizza box and who knew what else. The tidy-up was stressful, but once again Carla was a whirlwind of motion, pottering about and finding a space for everything. After an hour or so the place looked new and I had no idea how she had done it. “Are you some kind of fairy godmother in disguise?” I quipped, and she let out her typical gale of laughter that I found impossible not to join in with. “Right,” she said, “come with me to your room and we'll find a decent pair of pants and shoes for that top.” Despite her being my best friend I felt a little self-conscious changing in front of her. This was compounded by feeling stupid about that given that we were in my house and my room. “Is this where you pull out the severed head of that boy from the store?” I asked as she poked around the bag. “Not quite,” she replied and finally revealed what she had been hiding. “What the fuck is that?” I asked, the height of manners as always. She tossed it over to me. “Back when I was worried about my size I used to wear one of these. It's a waist cincher and it'll help with that confidence you were lacking.” I stared at the garment in skepticism, but she had been right so far, so I started to put it on. I felt a tightening sensation, but nothing too uncomfortable. Clearly the thing was doing its job and pushing bits of me elsewhere. I stared back into the mirror at my trimmer figure. It didn't drop a hundred pounds, but it made me feel a little more shapely than before and seemed to undo the damage of the last few weeks at least. I stared back and Carla was naked. I averted my eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?” “Look at me, Laura,” she said, her voice deadly serious. So I looked. Her breasts were huge, I didn't realise how big until I saw them out of her bra. Underneath them was a belly that dwarfed my own, yet didn't seem to sag with its size. Her hips were large and rounded like the rest of her, and her chunky thighs led up to... I stopped myself, what was I thinking? She drew closer, each step measured and purposeful in showing off her figure. “This is what a larger body looks like when you have confidence,” she purred. I gulped and couldn't look away, I felt a strange tightness in my chest and realised my eyes were glued to her midsection as it swayed with her motion. “Fuck,” I murmured, wanting nothing more than to slip my arms around that mass and jiggle it up against me. “I saw your looks, Laura,” she said, tracing a breath down my neck. “I'm not blind. I know why you got bigger and it wasn't just the food.” I closed my eyes and started to reach out, unable to resist any more. If only I had been more thorough last night instead of a drunken mess. I grasped thin air, she had moved away and was putting her clothes back on. “You're a married woman,” she said. “If I can do that to a married woman, what do you think you can do to your own husband if you get confident like me?” I breathed again. She hadn't seduced me, she was making a point, she was still helping me. Fuck. “A bit lost for words, eh?” she said, a mischievous grin lighting up her face. “Tell you what, go and find out if your husband likes bigger ladies, then find out if he likes more than one at once.” I fought for a breath, and the cincher wasn't helping matters. “I'll keep that in mind.” She winked at me. “Alright, you have everything you need to make a big impact on Jason. I wish you the best of luck. Let me just walk outside and turn the nearest pumpkin into a carriage and I'll be on my way.” I rid myself of the cincher and threw on some clothes, realising that was Carla-speak for 'give me a lift back home'. She hadn't offered to accompany me to the airport because she knew that I'd say no. This was something that I needed to do myself and I was glad that she had chosen to respect that. I stared at the clock and realised that it was only a few scant hours until Jason arrived. Carla was jovial on the way back, laughing and joking as if nothing had happened. I didn't press her about what happened, embarrassed as I was, more from my own desires than her display. After waving her farewell I drove back to mine and hit the shower, doing everything in my power to not look like someone had dragged me through a hedge backwards. I may have felt stressed about the whole situation but that didn't mean that Sasha would get the chance to see it. Plus the last thing Jason needed upon his triumphant return was to be burdened with all my concerns. I threw on the cincher and the top and the new pants that I had bought with Carla, staring at myself in the reflection of the mirror and realising that I didn't look half bad.

Hopefully this is the right place to put this! My boyfriend suggested posting it using his Curvage account. Sorry in advance if this is deemed advertising/spam! I'm Katie and I write erotica. Lately I've been writing a lot of feederism erotica. You can find the rest of my stuff at http://www.amazon.com/Katie-Butler/e/B014V8NYOK/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1 if you like this one! The Marine's Wife by Katie Butler I flipped through the calendar as I always did, seeing the date marked on the paper as it always was. July eighteenth. That's when he was coming home. I felt a little jump in my heart at the thought of it, of being held in his arms again. At the smell of his gear as he wrapped himself around me and I welcomed him back. It had been a long time in coming, but I had made it. I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror then, taking a deep breath and pulling at the softness of my face. I looked over at the photo I had stuck up there, the one with us both smiling back. It seemed like a lifetime ago, even if it had only been a year. Would we smile like that again? Had he missed me that much in the last few months? It had been easy after a while, just getting on with life and having the occasional call in the evening to say hi and update each other on what had been happening. I had stopped worrying about whether he would come back at all. What will be, will be. Besides, it only upset him when I worried too much. I got a letter a few months ago, after I had started to panic about his lack of appearance online. I had fully been expecting to hear that he had been wounded or killed in action, instead it was something so simple as a communications issue preventing all servicemen from using the internet. I didn't question it, but it got a bit harder then, not seeing his face every night, not being able to talk to him. I had to do it the old fashioned way now, sending letters in the post and not hearing back from him until much later. Another deep breath and I felt the nerves creep up on me. I had just over three months to quit this, three months to get back to the way I was before he came back. I stepped forward, resting the tips of my feet and then my heels, and I looked down. The scale read 204. Fuck. I leaned this way and that, but the number would not budge. I stripped off my clothes and stared back at myself in the mirror. Stared back at what I had let myself become. Was I really that much bigger? I didn't feel that big. I looked back down again. 203 without clothes. Not good. Stepping off the scale, I shoved it behind the sink and looked one more time at the mirror, turning to the side to see the damage I had done to my profile. I took another breath and sucked my belly in, pushing against it with my hand and feeling the softness that hadn't been there before. I looked more or less the same as before like that. Then I felt the trembling as my muscles struggled to contain it, the fat spilled out over my hand, pressing it back out and betraying my true shape. I tried one more time, opting to just pull it in instead of trying to contract it to the back of my spine. It didn't look anywhere near as good, and I threw my tank top over it to cover the obvious softness as I held it in place. It looked a bit better now, and I tried breathing out while keeping it sucked in. The top rode up slightly, betraying a hint of my gut, and I could feel the trembling begin as my muscles refused to keep it in order. I let it out with a sigh and it rolled my top up, betraying just how large I had got. I looked in the mirror one more time, tugging the tank top down in vain, realising now that it did nothing to hide the bulge of my waist or the swelling of my cleavage. I vaguely recalled weighing myself before he left, how I had joked about getting fat and ugly while he was gone. That was sixty pounds ago, and I now knew that there was no way of hiding this from him unless I did something about it. Three months, how hard could it be? All I needed to do was eat right, exercise, and the rest would take care of itself. At least I hoped it would, for the sake of my man and my jeans. The apartment buzzer rang with almost comedic timing and I stifled a laugh. Okay, the weight loss odyssey could begin after this. The pizza delivery guy knew me by name, as sure a sign as any that I had been spending too much time ordering from his employer. He was cute enough in his own way, and I knew the stereotype about military wives. I also knew that I was strictly monogamous, and that I had no interest in betraying my man like that. Realising that I was half naked, I threw on a pair of work pants, pulling myself into them and realising that the clasp holding them together only just pushed itself into place. I felt the tightening of my gut against the fabric as I exhaled and a guilty pang at indulging like this. Long gone were the excuses about having a party, we both knew that the entire thing was for me. He handed it over and tried not to betray a look of disgust, clearly he knew I had a problem. I had been a cheerleader before this happened, all muscle and function. How had I let myself get into this shape? I collapsed onto the couch with my dinner, cracking open a beer and flicking the television to something mindless to fill the void. I would start tomorrow, and the gorging of tonight would be my last. The first slice felt the guiltiest, and I chewed on it slowly in the hopes that I would fill myself up and not finish the whole thing. I stared at the can of beer and realised how stupid and pointless this was. The thing was going to get eaten at one point or another, might as well be now. Better to clear the house out of all the potential bad influences than leave them lingering and tempting me to distraction. I patted the bulge that had grown noticeable now that I sat in the constraining pants. “One more meal and then you're out of here,” I said in my best umpire voice. I don't know who I was trying to convince. By the sixth slice I was struggling, but damn it if the pizza wasn't one of the best I had tasted. Perhaps it was because I knew it was the last I would allow myself to have. The third beer left three more remaining, and I knew I could easily finish them tonight too. It was the weekend, I could do what I wanted. The eighth slice was stuck in my mouth. I absent-mindedly chewed at it as I watched the television, occasionally sipping the beer and leaning back into the sofa to relieve the pressure on my swollen gut. My other hand had snaked down into my fly and unzipped me, tracing a finger over the line of my panties before coaxing its way in. I closed my eyes as my nipples hardened, still chewing on the crust in my mouth and wishing it was Jason instead. I had read about it online, the dudes that preferred fat chicks. It didn't disgust me at all, I had seen much worse, and so long as it was between two consenting adults I didn't care. I had always wondered what it must have felt like to be one of those girls, idolised and worshipped. I didn't look into it any further than that, I wasn't into big guys, or girls for that matter. Thing is, I kind of enjoyed this whole eating thing. I thought I was filling a void left by Jason's departure, when in reality there had been something missing even before then. I enjoyed the tightness of my gut after a huge meal, the laziness and decadence of it all. How relaxed and peaceful I felt when full, and the gentle throb that assured me there was a sexual element to it all. That had scared me at first, but I guess different people liked different things and everyone had their kinks. Mine just happened to be a strange one, and I didn't want to further validate this slippery slope by looking it up online. No, one more pig out session and then I would be done with it. I was getting uncomfortably large now and the bare constraint of my clothing more than hinted at that. I opened my eyes at the twinge of discomfort and brought my other hand down, pulling my visible gut out of my pants to rest over the waistband rather than be cut in half by it. I stared at the angry red line that had already circled it and sighed in pity at just how large it was getting. Only it wasn't really pity, I just wished that it was. Most women would have been disgusted by what they saw if they had been in my shoes. Yet I knew that I liked it deep down, I knew that I wanted it to be even larger. Now my hand had space to roam underneath that gut, slipping deeper down into my panties and playing with the inside of my pussy with its fingers. I leaned back into the couch even further and swallowed what was left of the crust, pushing my belly out a little further and eyeing what was left of the pizza. Still four more slices. Fuck, could I manage that? Of course I could manage that. I leaned over and grabbed another slice, shoving it into my face and chewing on it before it grew too cold to enjoy. I heard the creak of fabric around my waist and quickly lowered myself back down into the couch. Were my pants really that tight when I was sat like this? I ran a finger across the waistband and realised it was digging into my hips. Yes, yes they were that tight, especially now that I was swelling with beer and pizza. I left the pizza in my mouth and reached for the beer, pushing it into the other side of my mouth as I continued to touch myself. It spilled down my tank top, soaking it. I guess that wasn't quite ready to be a party trick then. I looked down at the soaking mound that was my body from this angle and kept munching on the pizza in my mouth. Fuck it, I'd finish this and then I'd be done with it. Three months was plenty of time to lose it. I thought of the swelling of my belly through my beer-soaked shirt and my fingers worked harder inside of me, causing a throb to jiggle the flab underneath. I set the beer down and lifted the tank top slightly, exposing my belly to the light and seeing just how big it was getting. Okay, so I definitely couldn't afford to eat around Jason while he was back, that much was obvious. No matter what weight I was at I always puffed out like a balloon after eating. He had made fun of it in the past but if he saw me now he'd not be laughing. I looked like a beached whale sat here on this couch. An albino one at that. When was the last time I had gone to the beach? When was the last time I had even tried on my bikini? There was the answer as to why I had not ventured out. The thoughts were getting me hornier, and I felt short breaths escape my lips as I drew closer to my first climax. No, not yet. I was going to finish this damn pizza and down the beers before I really got to work. My bladder had other ideas, forcing me to rise from my seated position and make my way to the bathroom. Or at least that's what I tried. The sofa was quite low, and my initial attempt sent me right back down into it. I stifled a laugh at my own plight and slowly raised myself in a less jerky fashion. A tearing noise greeted my effort as I made it to my feet, and I stared at my pants in horror. A small hole had been ripped on the front right-hand side of them, the fabric had just given in and a small jutting of flesh and panty spilled out of it, squeezed there by the tight waistline that I had forced my gut over. They were completely ruined. Well, at least I didn't have to be careful or graceful about getting up and down again. Fuck the pants, I'd get another pair. I made my way to the bathroom and did my business, unclipping the front of the torn clothes and watching my free belly spill out in relief. It felt good to get out of the constraint. I looked at myself in the mirror again as I pulled the pants up again. I don't know why I was dressing myself, it wasn't like I was expecting any further visitors now that the pizza guy had come and gone. My gaze had wandered over to the scales. I pulled them out and placed them before the sink, stepping on and not looking down, focusing instead on the swollen belly that protruded from the confines of my tank top and pants. One having rode up to accommodate it and the other having been forced open by my hand. I placed both my hands on it and pushed it up and down, watching the fat as it swelled through my fingers. Fuck. I remember when I had simply been as round as a beach ball. There had been no spillage, no fat seeping through. Now I seemed to be coated in a layer of it. I looked down at the scales. 207. Ouch. It showed. I pushed the pants back together and met resistance. I had forgotten to breath in. They needed a little coaxing to fasten together again that usually came in the form of me breathing in. I looked in the mirror a final time and realised that I already was pulling my gut in. Fuck. I let go and the belly pushed apart the pants as if in disdain. I sucked a deep breath in and tried to force the clasp together again, realising now that I was so full of pizza that I couldn't do it. How the fuck was I going to get into shape for Jason's appearance if I was too fat to wear my old clothes? I made my way back to the couch, lying down on it and forcing my belly in. I had seen bigger girls do this before and it worked for them, never did I think I would have to try it. Gravity helped, and I was able to force the clasp closed again, shifting my legs and using them as counterbalance to force myself back into a seated position. My pussy throbbed at the thought of the constraint, at the tight bondage that held my swelling gut in place. I pulled the bulge out of the waistband before it cut me in two and settled back into the sofa with pizza in hand. My fingers found that spot again, massaging me as I worked on finishing off the remaining slices. It wasn't Jason I was thinking of as I lay back, it was my own bulging stomach as it rested upon my lap, almost fit to burst with pizza yet still desiring those final slices. I crammed the final slice into my mouth and chewed furiously, struggling to swallow it down and forcing it down my throat. I needed another beer for this, the crust had grown too dry. I let out a belch and leaned forward to reach for the last can, feeling the tearing as the hole in my pants grew larger. My fingers brushed against it when I felt a pop and a jolt ran through me. The clasp from my pants had burst open and flown across the room, releasing my belly from its prison and letting it spill out over my thighs and onto the hand that kept pleasuring. I pulled the beer over and lay back with a moan, chugging it and really forcing my fingers deep. I let the beer sop out of my mouth and trickle down my heaving chest, gulping the last of the slice down and feeling my belly filled almost to exploding point. I discarded the can and looked down at the bulbous mass that was my midriff, staring at it jiggling away under the incessant need from the hand no longer visible beneath its swelling. Fuck, I liked this too much, I couldn't stop. I needed to stop but I couldn't. The first wave didn't so much hit me as thunder into me. I had never been this full or this fat in my life, and in response to that the orgasm rocked me back into the sofa with stunning force. I let out a whimper followed by a belch from the beer and continued to touch myself to the sounds of my own gurgling stomach. The phone started to ring. Fuck. I was out of breath from my efforts and decided that I couldn't be bothered raising myself to answer it. I let it vibrate on the end table instead, hoping that whoever was calling would get the message that I was preoccupied. No dice, the phone kept ringing. It was either urgent or someone had made it their life's mission to give me no peace this evening. I took two settling breaths so as to disguise what I had been doing and then picked up the phone. Sasha was calling. Fucking Sasha of all people. I answered reluctantly. “What's up?” I asked, trying to stay as casual as possible and hoping that my breathing had settled back to normal. “Hey Laura, I have some great news and I thought I'd call to let you know!” Her bright voice was an absolute assault to the ears. I closed my eyes in a wince and thumbed the volume down. “What's happening?” I asked, remaining cordial despite my desire to tell her where to go. She was probably going to gloat about something, the big-headed bimbo. “Jason's coming home!” she crowed, and my heart stopped. “What?” “Jason's coming home!” she repeated. “Aren't you looking forward to seeing him? It was supposed to be a surprise but I couldn't contain myself.” “When?” I managed to strangle out, and she clearly heard my tone. “Tomorrow night,” she said, and her voice held none of the previous cheery tone. “I can't wait to see him, we're gathering everyone together to meet him. Hopefully you can come too and make a big difference.” That bitch. She just made a fat joke. “Now listen here,” I began, but the line was dead. Fucking Sasha. She had always been after him, right from the start. I had no idea why Jason had kept her around as a friend but I respected his decision. I felt that I couldn't pick and choose who my husband called his friends, but part of me really wished that I could. Then it hit me like a gut punch. Jason was going to be here tomorrow. He had probably kept it quiet from his family too in order to surprise them. Fuck. I felt like being sick, like hurling all the booze and pizza I had scoffed. What was Jason going to think when he arrived and saw what I had become? I found myself walking to the bathroom again, unsure about what I was doing. My hands reached out behind the sink and took hold of the scales again. I think my eyes needed to see it again, just to be sure. I stepped on, closing my eyes and dreading the worst. 209. Damn. That wasn't good. I stepped off the scales and stared down at them as the needle went back to zero. Except it didn't. The number stared back at me and my heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. 460. I had never looked before I got on the scales. I never noticed that the number wasn't a zero. The scales only went up to 500 pounds. Which meant that every time I weighed myself, 40 pounds had been missing. I turned the wheel manually, resetting it to zero and taking a shuddering breath before stepping on once more. 250. Fuck me.

It was posted a few years ago on youtube but I can't find it. Basically the girl is in a shirt and skirt at the beginning, something like formal office wear, sucking in her gut as much as humanly possible, then gradually she lets it out as she strips down. Any ideas?