FatDrabble/ImmobileMILF

[2nd person feeder and almost-immobile milf feedee. Dirty talk. General groping]

Ever since moving in with your girlfriend, you can't help but notice how much bigger she's gotten. It was minor at first - you'd notice how much more the bed creaked whenever she lay down beside you, or how much longer it took for her to get dressed of a morning. Then minor signs gave way to more… difficult to ignore ones. You remember being woken up one morning by the sounds of denim tearing apart at the seams, sitting up in bed and getting a good view of her panty-clad ass where it had demolished the seat of her pants. Then she found herself stuck in the doorway - you'd taken her out to dinner that night, and upon returning to your home, you spent a solid five minutes trying to push her cellulite-flecked ass through the front door, a task which ended up tearing two decently-sized holes into her dress, one on each of her broad, motherly hips where the doorframe was keeping her in place. From then on, she took to entering rooms sideways, an awkward, rocking shuffle that made her growing body jiggle and sway hypnotically.

Not that you mind, of course - hell, you’ve practically encouraged her at every turn, gently coaxing her to have a second or third helping at dinner, snacking between meals, even having a mini-fridge beside your bed, just so she doesn't have to lumber from the bedroom to the kitchen when she's feeling peckish.

And that's not to say that she was particularly slim to begin with, either; that baby weight from having two kids did wonders for her body -- based on pictures she'd shared with you, she already had one hell of a ‘mom bod’ before actually becoming a mom. At some point, she started working from home too - cutting out her daily commute (and adding in a few lunch breaks wherever she could sneak them in) meant that the weight started to pile up more and more.

For as long as you'd been dating her, though, no matter how her weight changed - or how her life changed due to her weight - she was her same vivacious, flirty and loving self. And you weren't sure you'd want her any other way.

That said, you wouldn't mind seeing her bigger… just a little.

———————

You awake with a yawn, rubbing your bleary eyes as you look around the living room; everything is bathed in the soft blue-white light of the TV set, the credits to some old horror flick. Of course, you can't really be blamed for dozing off, not when you've got such a soft cushion to rest your head against: your lardaceous lover’s pillowy, sleeve-shredding bicep. Just one of her arms had to be thicker, warmer and softer than the most luxurious of bedding, and this certainly wasn't the first time you've dozed off in her embrace.

With a contented, half-awake murmur, you scooch just a bit closer to her, enough to rest your head on her shoulder and plant a little kiss on her collarbone. As you lazily trail lingering smooches over her soft skin, her light snoring gives way to a pleased little chuckle. You feel her shift about, resting her hand on the back of your head and running her sausage-like fingers through your hair.

“Mmh… hey you.” She says with a warm smile, craning her head as much as the thick spare tire of lard around her neck would permit so she could kiss you on the forehead. “Guess we dozed off, huh?”

You nod slowly, resting your hand on the swell of her belly apron, slipping your index finger into the warm cavern that was her bellybutton. “Makes a change from falling into a food coma.”

Before you could react, you feel her pudgy palm plant a playful spank on your backside. “Hmph, someone’s being awfully rude today.” She grins, leaning close to whisper in your ear. “And naughty little dears like you should get put over my knee~”

“...How’re ya gonna put me across your knee with all this gut in the way?” You retort, cupping her wobbly cheek and kissing her lips, muffling her laughter. For a moment, you feel like you could fall asleep again, just like this; half-draped across her flabby form, your comparably lithe body sinking into the wobbling expanse of her belly, tongue lazily caressing hers. Still, you eventually find it in you to break the kiss, a thin bead of saliva connecting your lips to hers. Slowly, you get back to your feet, stretching out and trying to shake off just enough fatigue so that you can manage the crawl to bed.

As you do so, you hear your lover’s laboured breathing, interrupted only by quiet, barely-concealed grunts and little pleas.

“Hff, c-come on, just gotta… nnnh, p-please…” You turn and see her, red-faced, trying in vain to stand up. One tubby hand gripping at the arm of the sofa, the other at the back, her elephantine legs kicking and trying to desperately find the purchase for her to get back to her feet. Truth be told, you both saw this coming for a while, but it was still a surprise to see it for yourself. She was finally too fat to stand up on her own. One more thing that she'd need a hand with, and one more thing you'd be all too happy to help with. After all, what other option does she have? Try to lose weight until she's got full mobility again? She'd be more against the idea than you are, she's told you as much.

With a coy little smile, you extend a hand out to her, “Need a hand there, big gal?”

“Eheh, maybe… I must be more tired than I thought.”

Right. Tired. That's gotta be it; no way you'd be doing this again in the morning or anything. You resist the urge to tease her for it, instead taking her hands as she offers them up; your fingers sink into her plump forearms, and you brace yourself as you both try to pull her up. After a few seconds of pulling, she finally begins to lift, inch by inch, off of the couch. Against the growing lightheadedness, you keep straining, trying to maintain a grip on her sweaty arms as she likewise holds on as much as her unwieldy, decadently padded hands would permit.

“Nnh, c-c’mon, almost… hff, th-there…!” She encourages you through strained pants, until, finally, you haul her into a standing position. You feel as though you’d just ran a marathon, your muscles aching and your lungs burning after trying to heave more than seven-hundred pounds of woman upright. You drape your arms about her flabby neck, leaning against her for a bit of support and burying your face against her fat, somewhat-sagging tits.

“My my, is this… hah, why you wanted to help me up?” The porcine older woman says, and you can feel her chest rise and fall with each breathy chuckle. “Such a little pervert, helping me up just… nnf, j-just so you can grope me~”

Slowly, you raise your head from her sweat-damped breasts, pouting, “Please… if I wanted to grope ya, I'd just do it.”

“Well, you'll have… hff, plenty of chances to do that now. You've still gotta get me upstairs~”

Walking behind her, at eye level with her wobbling dumptruck of an ass as you follow behind her on the stairs?

Oh, you'll do more than just grope her, the tease.