“You alright babe?” you shout as you step back into the house in search of your wife as a string a breathy grunts meet your ears.
“Babe?” you call again before a reply is forthcoming.
“Just sh...huff...shut up” came the voice from upstairs, more specifically, your bedroom.
“Well aren’t you the charmer” you mock as you bound up the stairs with ease, grunting and panting becoming louder as you close distance between you and your wife.
“I’m nearly...done...” came the laboured reply as you manoeuvre the top of the stairs, positioning yourself in the doorway to the bedroom where you come face to face with your wife’s back.
Stood before you clearly fumbling with her black jeans, Ashley continued to pant heavily whilst quietly cussing under her breath before finally...
“Well about time, let’s...”
PING!
“Button?” you ask with a smug grin spreading, rather confident in your prediction.
“Button” Ashley relented as she slowly turned to face you, a thick roll of belly bulging out of her jeans making it clear why the garment had given up on her, not to mention the jiggling love handles that had been on display upon your arrival.
Ashley had always been a big girl since the day you had met but ever since spending most of your wedding night double fisting cake between her lips to the point you’d had to peel her black dress from her engorged frame, her weight had begun to climb at an exponential rate.
Standing at 5’7, her signature boobs were straining her T-shirt tightly to the point her lacy cups were visibly biting into the top of her full breasts, whilst said T-shirt rode noticeably above her waistband so much so that had her jeans stayed closed a pale slither of pudge would still be exposed to the world.
Whilst the jeans had succumbed to the girth of her stomach, Ashley possessed a set of thick thighs that had worn the insides of the denim legs thin and grey from the constant chafing whilst a wide peachy rump and hips stretched the material even tighter.
The poor strained waistband was further punished by the thick love handles that were squeezing free of their denim prison.
Topping off the look though was, as you referred to it, Ashley’s ‘wife belly’ that was segmented into two thick rolls roughly where her waist once was.
Even as she futilely attempted to pull the two flaps of denim together around her full figured middle, a great bulge of fat squeezed out between them indicating the useless nature of her exertions.
Aside from clearly being too big for the jeans, an angry red mark hugged the circumference of her soft belly where the denim had briefly squeezed Ashley tight before the brass button had hurtled free of her fattened waist.
As you watched over the scene as sweat began to bead on Ashley’s forehead, you couldn’t help but reflect on the last time your wife had begrudgingly stepped on the scales to reveal a hefty 287lbs with a sly realisation that the now buttonless jeans had fit snuggly just moments after that display.
Not so much now of course.
“Sorry to break it to you babe but that won’t work now” you muse, still watching Ashley struggle on with her dark hair cascading over her face as she continued to tug on the denim that squeezed her belly.
“I know but...if they get close...enough...” grunted Ashley awkwardly “my belt can...hold them closed...”
“Uh huh, about that” you reply, deftly grabbing up said belt before spinning your wife around playfully until she was facing the full length mirror with you stood behind.
“Not now, I’m trying to...ooph that’s cold, what is that?!” complained Ashley as a coldness radiated against her exposed belly.
“That dear is your belt” you declare with a smile as you press the large silver buckle against your wife’s soft middle where it and the leather strap end framed her belly button with a clear gap even wider than the one between her jean flaps.
“Jeez...” groaned Ashley as she let go of her jeans in defeat, slumping slightly in your arms as she eyed just how pathetically small the fashion belt looked around her pale girth.
“Well I think you look beautiful still” you compliment, planting a warm kiss on your wife’s chubby cheek between the strands of dark hair.
“You would say that” growled Ashley taking aim at your less than subtle preferences towards fatness and her own unbridled appetite which had become so prominent in your relationship.
From lavish wining and dining where Ashley dressed as glamorously as her gothic exterior allowed to weekends of takeaway binges whilst gaming it was a wonder she wasn’t bigger, not that that wasn’t for a lack of fantasising.
Of course Ashley’s insatiable appetite had eventually snuck into the bedroom too which, combined with her inherent laziness and ‘goddess of darkness’ act, had only served to increase her size.
Fortunately, whilst reluctant to actively gain, Ashley was greedy to a fault and twice as lazy as that so the pounds literally took care of themselves.
“Hey, you can diet whenever you want sweetie” you tease, placing your hands on Ashley’s plump middle “step one, no more pizza”
Ashley sighed in defeat again.
For her the nerd adverse to exercise was more than just a cliche and the rate at which she ordered food of a less than healthy nature was uncanny.
“Now, may I suggest the pleated skirt instead?” you offer, whipping the pointless jeans down as far as you could whilst you stepped away to grab said skirt.
“Urgh fine” relented Ashley as she kicked off her jeans “get my fishnets too”
“Well aren’t I lucky” you tease as you toss the requested clothes over to your wife.
“Hmm” grumbled Ashley as she awkwardly bent over, hooking her black painted toe nails into the nets before pulling them up over her thighs and eventually her plump ass.
‘That just keeps getting better’’ you thought as you recall Ashley’s increasingly larger fishnets over the years, this particular pair probably not far from retirement as squishy diamonds of thigh fat bulged through the netting from hip to knee.
“Alright perv, let’s go” snarked Ashley with a wry smile having now donned her pleated skirt with the extra stretchy waist that accommodated as much belly as she could fit in there “you better have a good breakfast planned for this one”
“Oh you bet” you respond with a smile allowing your wife to pass you before you paddle her bulging rear firmly, an action that earned you a withering if not slightly aroused stare.
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