I peered out the window into the dark as I waited for my husband, Marcus to get home.
He was late today, and as I was making dinner, I got carried away.
Basically, a feast was set on the table, pastas, steaks, salads, desserts, sandwiches, mashed potatoes, sausages and some tacos.
Soon, headlights pulled into the driveway and my husband came through the door, taking off his boots and calling out his salutations.
"Hey babe!" I replied as I put plates on the table.
He rounded the corner and I grimaced mentally at his skinny frame.
"That's alot of food..." he said, staring at the table.
I went over to him, taking his hands in mine and guiding him to his seat.
"I know, I'm sorry, baby, but you were late and I got carried away..."
He sighed, kissing me briefly and sitting down.
"Its fine babe, I can eat it."
I smiled, sitting across from it and started grabbing some food, not much, and eating.
Marcus ate away, refilling his plate several times before leaning back, rubbing a small bump on his stomach.
"That was good." He told me.
I raised an eyebrow, munching on a salad.
"You're not gonna finish it?"
His eyes widened. "F-finish everything?"
I nodded and he gulped.
"I mean, you dont have to but, I just thought since you got home late..." I looked down at my plate, feigning sadness, making Marcus clear his throat and refill his plate.
"Its fine, I can finish it," he said, gulping and starting to eat slowly.
After a bit and a refill, almost finishing everything but the bowl of pasta and the tacos, he leaned back, groaning.
"Do you want a drink?" I asked him, to which he nodded.
I got up, grabbing him a beer and pouring it in a glass, and slipping in a fuzzy tab that multiplied the calories he ate.
I gave him the beer and started clearing things as he gulped it down, wiping his mouth once he finished.
He resumed eating, devouring the tacos and starting to work on the pasta, groaning and rubbing a new taut belly that his shirt rolled up over, exposing the skin.
"B-babe, my stomach r-really hurts."
I wiped my hands and went over to him, sitting on his lap and taking a fork, filling it with pasta and shoving it in his mouth, listening to him groan lightly as his jeans dug into the bump that continued to grow.
He wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing me against his stomach as I continued feeding him, finishing half of the bowl.
"B-babe, p-please..."
I gave him puppy dog eyes. "But love, you said you would finish it..." I started rubbing his stomach.
He moaned and buried his face in the crook of my neck, making me smile as his fingers dug into my hips.
"Right," he muttered, eating another forkful.
After he finished, I helped him up and he sat on the couch while I cleaned.
Soon, I sat beside him, watching him rub his new belly out of my peripheral vision, wincing.
"Baby, why dont you let me?" I said, pushing his down lightly as he blushed.
I tugged his shirt up and pushed against his big bump that resembled a 4 month pregnant womans.
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He burped, covering his mouth and moaned as I applied preassure.
Soon, he fell asleep, so I got up and got him another beer with 2 fizzy pills and a plate of brownies.
The scent woke him up and he gulped down his beer, failing to miss his growing stomach and wolfed down the brownies, groaning and getting up, wobbling as he went to the bedroom and flopped onto the bed after slipping on shorts.
I followed and got dressed and he was already asleep by the time I slid into bed and snuggled up against him, falling asleep to his little grunts as his belly rose outwards.
The next morning, I woke up, and I spooned Marcus, wrapping my hand protectively around his grown belly.
He was awake because he wasnt snoring and he was breathing regularly.
After awhile, he cleared his throat.
"I've gotten fat."
I smiled to myself as I buried my face in his back.
"Baby, its just a few pounds."
He sighed, moving my hand off his stomach and sitting up, gesturing to his stomach, which wiggled as he moved.
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He used to weigh 200lbs, maybe now he was 309.
I sat up with him, crawling into his lap and hugging his belly, to which he sighed again.
"Love, I love your belly," I told him, squeezing his love handles.
