Kinktober Day 19: Pregnancy Weight Gain

Very much what it says on the tin.

***

"Don’t forget the big thing of peanut butter and the bacon. Ooh, and if you see some of those peanut butter malt balls, get some? Like… a pound. Or two.”

It took all Martin’s willpower not to laugh. “Do you want the malt balls instead of the pickles, or…?”

“No, get everything. That’s why it’s all on the list.” Lana’s voice was testy, clearly irritated that Martin had questioned her.

“Of course. I’ll be home after I’m done shopping.”

“You should get some hot food from the deli for dinner, too. This baby has me too tired to cook. Okaythankyouloveyoubye!” she said brightly before hanging up.

Lana was just barely eight weeks pregnant and already acting like an absolute monster, in the best way. Lana had often crowed to Martin about how much weight she would gain once their relationship hit certain milestones: she was going to get so fat once they moved in together, or totally huge once they got married and she “didn’t have to worry about you running off with anyone else,” and completely massive as soon as he knocked her up. She had said these things, half teasing, half trying to prepare Martin for what she believed would be her inevitable decline in beauty.

To Martin’s disappointment, she had stayed stubbornly slim during their whole relationship. The comfort weight that was supposed to come with a happy partnership never seemed to arrive. He loved his wife terribly, even if she was thinner than he would’ve hoped. He was happy if she was happy, and up until now, counting calories and grueling routines put together by her personal trainer had made her happy.

Now, though? Now she opined every few hours about how she was “eating for two” and was having “the worst cravings.” Nevermind that at this stage of the pregnancy she barely needed any extra calories. Martin wasn’t about to stand in her way if she wanted to eat her weight in peanut butter malt balls.

He stocked up on everything she’d put on the list, plus some other things he figured she’d like, and some snacks that were “for him” (though he had a feeling she’d tear through them before he could even touch them). He swung by the deli to look at the hot food and ended up getting a big container of deep-fried wings, plus some pork buns and a few of the giant meatballs she loved.

When he arrived at home, Lana tore into the bags immediately, ripping open the plastic bulk bag of malt balls and crunching into them as she inspected everything else. She grabbed the hot food and went straight to the living room to sit on the couch, eager to stuff her face while they watched a show.

Martin had never seen her like this. He knew Lana had an appetite that she mostly kept in check, but this was something else. It was like now that she had an excuse, she was making up for years of missed indulgences.

As he sat down on the couch and watched her tear into an enormous, fluffy pork bun, cheeks puffed out, he let himself hope Lana’s fabled comfort weight would finally show up.

***

By the middle of her second trimester, Martin had gotten his wish and then some. She was showing now, but it was hard to tell how much of it was baby-belly and how much it was midnight-ice-cream-belly. Lana had become an absolute eating machine, practically guzzling down everything within her grasp. He had stopped counting the number of times he came home from work to find his wife belly-up on the couch with wrappers scattered all around her, in the middle of a post-prandial nap.

His favorite days were the ones when he would set hot takeout on the coffee table in front of the couch and she would sit up sleepily and mumble, “That smells so good” before she could even rub the sleep out of her eyes.

Thirty pounds had piled onto her frame since she’d found out she was pregnant. Much of that had clearly gone straight to her well-fed rump, which was straining out of the new maternity pants she’d bought at the mall just a few weeks before. And despite the distinct frontward growth of her belly, there were some juicy lovehandles beginning to make their appearance.

It seemed like she hadn’t noticed a single pound. She would cradle her belly, one hand resting beneath it and the other on top, rubbing her hand over it absently, and not realize how much softness there was beneath her fingertips. Martin didn’t miss any of those important details, though. He relished the weekends when they would lie in bed late into the morning, his hands roaming over her, mapping out every new part of her. He would caress and kiss her belly, loving how much bigger it made her look. Loving the thought that she was growing an entire human inside her, and that she was taking full advantage and stuffing her face with swiss rolls and fried chicken while she did it.

With each passing week, she seemed to get greedier. She would wake him up at two in the morning whining about being hungry, and he couldn’t even be mad that she was too lazy to open up a delivery app herself. He would order her favorite dishes—sometimes from more than one place, just to be safe—and then watch her feast in their bed, like some swollen goddess of gluttony and laziness.

Meanwhile, she was continuing to grow. Her breasts had grown several cup sizes and had become so sensitive that the lightest touch made her squirm. Their sex life had always been good (hence the pregnancy), but now she seemed to want him almost as much as she wanted pizza with extra cheese. Of course, that gave Martin plenty of opportunities to get up close and personal with his ever-expanding wife from a variety of wonderful angles. When she hoisted herself (not without difficulty) onto the kitchen countertop and spread her legs wide, he could admire the way her thighs had begun to dimple. When he took her from behind, he could see how low her belly hung in front of her, the jiggles rippling through all the new, excess flesh as he gave her fat ass a smack.

By the time her third trimester rolled around, he could practically roll her around. She was massive, permanently hungry, and less inclined to move than ever. She had started to spend whole days in their capacious bathtub, and if Martin was home, she would yell for him whenever she needed new snacks. Some might have said she was being shrewish, taking too much advantage of the situation, but Martin was eager to find excuses for his soft, pretty wife to continue to do nothing but stuff herself all day.

As her due date approached, Martin felt a twinge of sadness as he realized that she might want to lose the weight after the baby was born. She might want to get back to her slim, fit self. It was her choice, of course, and he wouldn’t stop her if that was what she wanted. He did do his best to make those last few weeks count, though, indulging Lana’s every whim and seeing the rewards arrive on her widening frame.

***

Life post-baby was a little different. They were both lost in a haze of lack of sleep—Lana especially, since she was waking up every few hours breastfeed. They both adored their child, and adjusted to the new pace of their life.

That new pace, thankfully, did not involve Lana’s appetite slowing down. She was clearly fat and happy, content so long as both she and the baby had full bellies and a nice afternoon nap. Martin waited for the other shoe to drop, for something to change. But by the time they had fallen into a routine and both started to come up for air… she was pregnant again, and all Martin could think about was how much bigger she’d get this time.