"Aw, I think my man needs a belly rub after his big dinner," Mel cooed.
I groaned, not only it was true, but I knew I looked the part. I wasn't going to argue, a belly rub felt good after all.
I could feel the waistband of my jeans straining from the pressure of the feast I'd just devoured. My tee-shirt was faring no better. While at one time I would have appeared lost in it, it didn't quite cover the entirety of my protruding paunch.
Mel set aside her plate, its contents only half eaten, and pulled her chair around next to mine. With both hands, she massaged my aching stomach. Round and round, her hands went in circular motions. After such an enormous meal, that felt incredible.
My plate, unlike Melanie's, was scrapped clean. It was no wonder where all the food had gone. As she continued to massage me, I glanced down at my expanded gut, a little scared to see the damage. Stuffed full, it was taking up a concerning amount of my lap.
We'd just finished our big anniversary dinner, and I was beyond full. Mel's cooking is always delicious, and this meal was no exception. I loaded up my plate and demolished it in record time. After drawing in a deep breath, I gave Mel the nod for seconds. Seconds turned into thirds and even though I was slowing down, Mel still kept piling it on with a grin. Before I knew it, most of the meal Melanie had cooked up had found its way into my stomach.
After what seemed like forever, Mel gave me my reward for being such a good eater; a peck on the cheek and a belly rub.
As she continued to massage my belly, I shifted around in my chair so I could reach beneath my sizable gut and loosen my belt to its last notch.
"Still hungry for some cake?"
Mel couldn't help but giggle when my stomach growled right on cue.
"I guess I am still hungry," I sheepishly admitted.
"Good," she said, patting my achingly swollen gut, then disappearing into the kitchen.
As she bustled around in the kitchen, I couldn't help but reflect how our relationship had developed over the last two years. After all, she was supposed to be the fat one. You see, I kind of have a thing for chubby girls. Be warned, though, they make you fat.
Melanie and I had been together for two years now. I wasn't always like this. I was a fit 155 pounds on my 5'9" frame when we first met. Melanie was a curvy bombshell with full hips, voluptuous curves, and an ample cleavage. She had a cute little belly which complemented her thick thighs and round rear. She always wore clothes which hugged her curves, perfectly accentuating them. I would later find out that she outweighed me by almost fifteen pounds, even though I had four inches on her.
After we first had sex, she caught me fondling her belly and called me out on it. I came clean about my thing for chubby girls and surprisingly; she thought it was cute. Emboldened, I remember asking her if she would mind being the bigger one in the relationship and she just laughed it off.
Anyway, that's what started things between us. As the weeks and months went by, we ended up spending more and more time together. Six months in, my lease was up for renewal, so I just moved in, since I was over there all the time, anyway. It was a no brainer, since the sex was amazing and she loved to cook for me. Melanie's cooking was always delicious. It was no wonder she was chubby and getting chubbier.
The "problem" started a little over a year ago. I was pouring some cereal for breakfast, and Mel came up behind me and slapped my ass.
"You know, you're getting kind of tick."
I laughed a bit. This had come out of nowhere. "What do you mean?"
"Look at you!" At this point, she squeezed my belly. Wait, since when did I have a belly?
