EPILOGUE
Two years later, Heather was anchored to Brett’s couch, working her way through a huge platter of spaghetti and garlic bread. “Ugh,” she thought as she swallowed a huge mouthful. “This is SO good...why isn’t he having any?”
As of late, this had become the norm in their relationship. Although she had clearly articulated her “No Feeders” Policy at the onset, and despite his continued protestations to the contrary, she had nonetheless regained all of that “Fernando-era” weight. With interest.
Her flabby upper arms jiggled as she continued to shovel the fattening meal into her mouth; the outer portions oozing onto her massive breasts and quivering gently from the efforts.
Her triple belly had returned with a vengeance. It rolled heavily onto her voluminous, juicy thighs with her deep set belly button pressing into her XXXL white tank top and puckering the fabric surrounding her middle roll.
The last time she stepped on a scale, it read 565. She had promised herself she would get a hold of things and lose some of this weight before Brett realized just how much she had gained. Little did she know that he had secret cameras set up throughout his apartment and was fully aware of more than she realized, including her current measurements.
Brett strode back into the room with a fresh platter of pasta and set it on the tray in front of her. “You still looked hungry,” he said with a sly wink. “I’m working on dessert right now.”
Heather briefly considered turning down this 4th helping, but she WAS starving and didn’t want to be rude. “Thanks babe.” she said instead as she dug in.
Accidentally dropping her fork onto the carpet, she groaned and attempted to lean down to retrieve it. Her blubbery belly rolls immediately met resistance at the apex of her wide hips, and she was steadying herself for a second attempt to pluck the utensil off the ground when she felt Brett’s firm hand grasp her meaty shoulder.
“I got that, babe,” he purred with a grin. “No really - don’t get up.”
THE END