Reflections

“It’s so fucking hot in here!” She exclaimed as she walks into the living room. She’s wearing her regular choice in lounge attire, short shorts and a vest top, garments that can’t hope to hide the lower part of her belly as it hangs over her waistband and peeks out from under the vest’s hem. 

I watch on appreciatively as she walks past, her lower belly roll jiggling with each heavy, bare-footed step. She plops down on her couch which just sets every inch of her off, it makes me smile. 

“It’s the height of summer, what do you expect?” I ask as I lean over to make sure the fan is oscillating and that we both get some brief moments of relief from the unmanageable heat. 

“It never used to be this bad.” She complains before taking a long drink from her beer stein, well, it’s my beer stein but I don’t mind her using it. 

“That’s global warming for you.” I retort. While partly true, it isn’t the only reason that she’s red faced and sweaty. 

 

She’s changed a lot in the time we have known each other, we both have. We met at a festival, friends of friends it turned out. She doesn’t remember the night but I do. Her long black hair and pale long legs were eye-catching enough without her big boobs. I loved her style, black PVC corset with knee high leather boots, she had a sweet, unassuming, almost shy personality that was incredibly endearing. We only spoke briefly but exchanged socials and quickly sparked a friendship. 

I’d started partying in her city at the weekend and quickly our friendship turned into something more serious. She used to dance at a club at the weekend and I remember watching her one night and knowing then and there that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. 

We made love for the first time that very night. She was a little awkward getting naked in front of me, “I just don’t want you to be disappointed”, she had said. I assured that there was no way on earth that I could ever be disappointed with her. 

I had only ever seen her in clubs and in her corsetry, I saw once she shed herself of the restrictive item of clothing that it had been hiding a tiny belly. I glanced at it briefly and then into her eyes, I smiled as she crawled over to me and we proceed to have an incredible night of passion, she really rocked my world. 

It sounds corny but I asked her to be my girlfriend the very next morning, she was giddy, saying how she felt exactly the same. 

 

A few months later I moved to her city and we moved in together. This was where things started to change with regards to both her and my own figures. I’d always been slender, save for a brief period just before puberty but I learned that she had been a fat kid, something she had been bullied for throughout her childhood. Sick of the taunts, she had completely reinvented herself in her teens, dyed her hair and hit the gym hard. That coupled with the weekend dancing had given her a pretty slim silhouette (with the help of the corsets of course). 

But once we moved in together her routine was completely altered. We didn’t have to go clubbing at the weekend to see each other and my new job had me working weekends so we found ourselves missing most club nights, opting to stay in with a movie and a takeaway rather than dancing for 7 hours straight. Not having the weekend to ourselves meant that we tried to spend as much time with each other of the evening which meant her gym visits became all the more infrequent. Finally, living away from home for the first time meant that she was really able to let loose when it came to her eating habits. She was an amazing cook (something I could never claim for myself) and it made her happy to hear how much I enjoyed her cooking. 

 

Of course, this led to the inevitable – we both started to gain weight. We tried to combat it at first, I joined her at the gym and we went running together but I had never been very good at exercising and she loved to eat, “I don’t want to stop eating yummy food just to lose weight, you don’t mind do you?” she asked. Of course I didn’t. 

If you were to ask her, she would say the turning point came when she lost her job. I had quit my job a while earlier and had gone back to school so we had 6 weeks together before I went back to college. She looks back on that period and blames “sitting around eating bacon sandwiches” as the reason why she went from being a little doughy to undeniably chubby. If you were to ask me, I’d say that and the copious amount of cream cakes and kfc certainly didn’t hinder the process.  

I wasn’t spared from the effects of the onslaught of extra calories myself of course, “You look like you enjoyed the holiday.” A classmate remarked to me on the first day back. I knew what he meant as the double chin in my new college ID gave the game away that I’d gotten chubby too. 

Things were never the same after those 6 weeks. Any exercise we had gotten from clubbing had been left firmly in the past, replaced by a fondness of extravagant desserts and family sized takeaways. 

The amount of times we had to size up our wardrobes would have given other couples the message that maybe they should slow down a little but we were comfortable, we were happy. It didn’t hurt that I’d always had a soft spot for bigger girls but as I watched her blossom into a true BBW I had to admit that I definitely had a type.  

 

As I watch her sat on the sofa, her breasts resting heavily on her double rolled belly, itself resting on her magnificently wide thighs, I smile at her and catch her attention. 

“What are you smiling at?” she asks, her long pink hair is tied back and her ginger roots are showing. There’s not a lick of makeup on her rounded face. 

“Just the most beautiful girl in the world.” I answer truthfully. 

The resulting smile makes her double chin deepen and my heart melts a little more every time I see that. 

“Do you want something from the kitchen my love?” I ask as I stand, feeling my own breasts rub against my rounded belly. 

“Something sweet.” She replies. 

“Nothing could be as sweet as you.” I reply, there’s that smile again, totally worth being sickly sweet. 

I fetch her a package of her favourite chocolate mousses while snagging a couple of donuts for myself. 

“I swear, one of these days you’re just going to reveal this has all been a big prank and you’re going to dump me once I’m too fat to do anything about it.” She quips as the spoon scrapes the bottom of the final pot of mousse. 

“I’m not sure who the prank would be on with how much it costs to keep you well fed,” I retort, “besides, I’ve taken far too much collateral damage to ever come out on top.” I rub my own sizeable belly for emphasis. 

“It’s a good job it makes you look so cute then.” She says as she gets up. We share a kiss and a cuddle, our fat bellies pressing against one another, my hands giving her ample posterior a quick squeeze as I always do. It’s comforting. It’s nice. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.