A Simple Act of Kindness
By Admirer

I love my wife, and we are very much in love. She is absolutely gorgeous. She has shoulder-length black hair, full/round breasts and curves all over. A lovely potbelly. Plump and smiling face… For our tenth anniversary I took her on a three week cruise. She is a very sweet lady, and her kindness changed the very course of our cruise in a big way…

We were eating dinner on the first night of our cruise. [Sally likes to eat, and it's no secret that I like “soft” women. Sally herself is “soft.” Before the cruise, she was about 5'2'' and weighed around 180-190.] She was halfway through a delicious pork tenderloin and was loving every ounce of it. Being her kind sincere self, she decided to get up and let the chef know just how much she admired his cooking. I warned her that he was probably very busy, but she insisted on displaying her appreciation. She wandered to the back of the room and sought out the kitchen door. She found it and popped in. She came back a few minutes later, flushed with embarrassment.

--What happened? (I asked.)

--Well, I found him.

--And?

--He was very sweet. An older Italian man. He said that no one had ever been so kind to him before. He was quite flattered by my efforts and compliment. He said he could tell that I knew what good food was and he patted my tummy. [That explained her red, hot blush…. ) He pinched my cheek and promised he would take care of me during our time on the cruise…whatever that means.

--Amazing what a little kindness can do…

She dug back into her pork tenderloin and ate heartily. We chatted and laughed. It was like our second honeymoon. We'd been amorous and happy since leaving the shore.

A while later, Sally stabbed the last bit of roasted potatoes from her plate and popped them in her mouth. Her plate was clean.

--All this salt air makes me ravenous!

I couldn't believe that she had eaten everything. Cruise portions are huge. She said:

--I surrender! I'm stuffed. It was so good I couldn't bear to leave any behind…. It's a reality, your sweet wife will be fatter by the time we get home in three weeks! This food is incredible!

She leaned way back in her chair and softly grunted. I was completely turned on.

It was then that a group of waiters gathered around our table with stainless steel-covered plates.

--Compliments of the chef.

One said with a flourish and with a sweeping motion he lifted off the lid, steam swirled upward.

--But… (She stammered.)

Waiter two did the same, as did the other two…

Before Sally lay a great bowl of seafood bisque, a seafood Alfredo, some kind of quiche and an Italian dish loaded with sausages, pasta, peppers, sauce and cheese…

From behind the waiters came a tall, fat, Italian-looking man. It was the chef. He came up behind Sally and greeted me with great kindness, complimenting me on my wife's beauty. He tied a huge cloth napkin around Sally's neck and begged her to “mangia” and sat down with us. Sally was stunned, as was I.

--It's for you! You so nice-a to me! Good girl. You like-a my food? I see you get plenty… No one ever complimented me so nice before!

He began the tale of his life. Chatted affably. Sally nibbled tentatively at her new onslaught of food.

--What? You no like? I'm-a so sorry!

--No no! It's very delicious! It's just that…

--It's okay. I unnerstan, I rushed. Too fast… S'okay…. S'no good….

Sally begged forgiveness and dove in with her fork and spoon. The chef chatted, watched her eat, encouraged her, asked for occasional reviews. I saw Sally secretly reach under the table and unbutton her pants…and she ate on. The bisque went first. Then the quiche. Then the two pasta dishes. It was remarkable to see her eat that way. I was stunned, and the table hid my outrageous hard-on. Sally would look at him smiling, cheeks bulging with food, and listen, and then back to the food incredulously(he never saw that look). Bite after bite disappeared into her mouth.

Later, the chef left with kind words. Sally was a bit short of breath. She hiccupped daintily, again and again….

She smiled, overwhelmed and politely asked me to help her up. I did, and I guided her gingerly back to the room. We talked in disbelieving and hushed tones about our table visitor. Her belly poked out from under her blouse; her pants remained unbuttoned. I tried to help her button them back up. She said:

--Ooh…don't bother. (hic) Not a chance…too much food. (hic) Need to lie down… (hic).

When we got back to the room, lie down she did. Flat on her back. Breathing shallowly. Pants down around her knees. Belly stuffed, arced, distended. She held it gingerly on both sides with her plump hands and hiccupped sporadically, delicately.

--Oof. (hic) My GOD. (hic) I have never…eaten…so much… It was kinda fun…[And she laughed.]

I comforted her, rubber her belly.

Later that night we made gentle, sweet love. It was like rolling around on an over-inflated ball. The sex was great for both of us. To it was added the sweet sin of overindulgence.

The next morning greeted us with a knock at the door. Room service came in. A note card on the cart said, in script, “For the Bellina.” On the cart was a three-cheese omelet, crepes Suzette, Belgian waffles, bacon, sausages, hot muffins….

To my surprise, Sally said she was famished and began to dig in. I ate a bit, but she ate an absolute ton of food, with vigor and pleasure on her face. She wore only her nightgown, so nothing inhibited the spread of her round, fat belly. I watched her with a pleasured fascination as she ate and ate. She sat on the edge of the bed, her plump feet dangling a few inches from the floor swinging gently back and forth, and stuffed morsel after morsel of food into her mouth. As she worked her way through one of the many melon slices, she stopped and grinned at me…juice dripping from her chin. With her mouth partially full, she said:

--I am making an absolute PIG of myself, aren't I?

--Looks good on you… Enjoy yourself. Eat up. You're a growing girl! You need your vitamins!

After some time, she lay back on the bed and moaned with pleasure and held her full-full belly. Before her lay several decimated plates, and there was syrup on her nightgown. She had eaten her fill, and could eat no more, she said. As I got ready for our day, though, I kept seeing her nibble here and there and surreptitiously sneak big bites of egg or waffle or pancake and chew with a stuffed mouth guiltily…

--Take this cart away from me, PLEASE, or I'll pop. I can't stop eating! I am COMPLETELY STUFFED. My GOD. Mmmm.

And the hiccupping began again in earnest.

The days went on like this. We enjoyed the hell out of the place. And Sally kept on eating with wild abandon. She grew fatter every day, and our lovemaking got better and better. Afternoons found her by the pool in a now too-tight bathing suit popping ice cream bon-bons (or some other sinful treat) into her mouth while we laughed and talked. Lunch was almost as grand as Sally's dinners. And she grew fatter and fatter. We made love in the bed, in the shower, in the hot tub in our room. We were like rabbits, couldn't get enough of each other. And Sally couldn't get enough food. Every morning she'd lay down for a while and hiccup and moan and recover from breakfast. Then treats by the pool. Then a fattening lunch. She was expanding by the hour, it seemed. The chef would check in daily, make sure we were enjoying our stay, and check on his “favorite little guest.” She was growing less little by the hour! Dinners were the most amazing moments…

Sally soon became an expert of the dessert table. She sampled every kind of sweet, fattening, and tempting treat. She was in heaven. And, because of her wildly expanding body, so was I…

Her regular dinner resembled some kind of sinful eating contest: meats, pastas, bread, soups, seafood…delicious delicacies entered her body in rapid succession. She would be surrounded by loaded plates full of really fattening food, and she looked like a kid in a toy shop. And she expanded, fattened, blew up, plumped, inflated…

I could really see it in her face, the new weight. Her breasts swelled to new proportions, her calves and thighs softened and expanded, her sweet ass began to overrun the confines of the dining room's chairs….

But, above all, her stomach was the sweetest part of her rapid expansion. She had absolutely BALLOONED in the belly. Her blouses and tee-shirts tried in vain to cover her ever-expanding tummy. She looked absolutely pregnant, and she got bigger with every bite. She “relaxed” all day, so there were many thousands of calories going in and none being worked off. She could no longer wear any pants with buttons and so she relied on two or three pairs of stretch pants (and those were being overworked too!). She would talk to her inflating belly to make me laugh:

--Had enough down there? Cause I'm not done yet!

--You're getting in the way big belly-o!

Sometimes she'd hold her belly between meal times and say to me:

--Tummy's hungry honey! Feed tummy! She wants more!

And I was never one to deny my wife.

The chef would drop by and say things like:

--You getta nice and fat! My big girl, you just wait till dinner! I'll show you good! So beautiful! So hungry! You a lucky man, sir! Whatta nice-a big belly! Tonight we feature a cheesecake to die for!

We were having the time of our lives.

One night Sally looked at me and said:

--I'm getting so BIG. Too big? Am I getting too fat for you? Tell the truth!

--You're fantastic, and gorgeous, and I love you. And that's the absolute truth…

She smiled and hugged me, and I was enveloped in her flesh. Her belly kept me at arm's length. She was getting so round. So big. So fat. And I was in heaven…