The Boomerang Feeder - Part 2

“Hey, babe? Could you come here?” Craig called from upstairs. I was busy cutting vegetables for dinner - it was Indian night, so I was making a selection of marinated chicken tikka, curries, and deep fried spicy vegetables. Of course, I was making enough to feed a family of 4, but that was just because Craig was eating enough for two, and I liked leftovers.

It had been six months since I started my plan, and Craig had just kept eating and eating and eating. He still managed to hit the gym a few times a week, but his appetite had blown way past his caloric expenditure. We didn’t have a scale, lest my hubby catch on to my ruse, but I figure he’s put on at least 50 pounds. Maybe more.

I made my way upstairs to see what he wanted. He was in our bedroom, at the desk we use for our laptops. I stood at the door for a few minutes to just look at him while he stared at the computer screen. How his belly had grown and now sat in his lap whenever he sat down. How full his face had gotten, with a big and jowly double chin. How his short brown hair revealed the folds at the back of his neck.It was enough for me to chub up just standing there.

“What do you think of these shirts?” He asked without taking his eyes off the screen. He must have sensed me staring. I walked over beside him to take a look and saw he was shopping for t-shirts. It was then that I actually noticed the one he was wearing was looking awfully tight, showing off every new bulge and roll. That was probably part of the reason I was already aroused.

“Sure hon, they look good,” I said, moving behind him so I could wrap my arms around his neck. Or what used to be his neck. It seemed have been swallowed up by his rising chest and descending chin. I didn’t mind though.

“Do you think I should get the 2XL-T or the 3XL?” This brought me up short. I knew when we first started dating he wore a regular XL, however those had stopped fitting him right after we both graduated college. He must have replaced his wardrobe at least once since the shirt he was wearing was clearly not an XL, but he never asked my advice on sizing then.

“Umm, maybe a 3X? You always did have a big chest.” I offered and hoped it sounded wistful as I played with his nipple. His chest had only gotten softer, like two doughy mounds topped with eraser heads. I loved playing with them, and Craig knew I liked it too.

He mostly ignored me as he finished up his order, getting out his credit card and paying for his purchase. His cart seemed pretty full - 2 new jeans, several new t-shirts, and a bunch of new socks and underwear. Then he sat back in his chair and nuzzled my arm with his cheek.

“Babe, do you think I’m getting fat?” The question sounded so innocent, and yet it froze me mid tit-grope. I didn’t know how to answer. Clearly, he knew he was getting bigger - he just bought practically a whole new wardrobe. Do I say the honest thing? Or the nice thing?

And then the thought struck me: what if he knows? What if he suspects I’m the reason he’s blowing up?

I decided the best course of action was to avoid the question entirely. “Honey, I love you just the way you are,” I said in his ear, slipping my hand through the neck of his shirt so I could squeeze a tit. He turned his head slightly and I could see the smile on his face.

I had only meant it to sway his attention, be he took it as a come on. I didn’t complain when he got up, took off his shirt, and threw me on the bed. We made out while he slowly took off my clothes, and by the time I was on all fours feeling the weight of his belly resting on my back I was leaking like a faucet. He fucked me like a freight train, slow and steady at first, and by the end he was huffing and chugging so much I thought the bed would collapse from under us.

We had a very late dinner that night, but it might have been the best meal I’d ever prepared.

After Craig had fallen asleep, I snuck on to his laptop to go back to the clothing site he was on. I needed a new pair of jeans myself - they were getting a little tight on me. I figure they must’ve shrunk in the wash. Plus they were old and a little threadbare. Maybe I’d get a few comfy t-shirts to wear around the house too.