Free He Loves My Curves by Stephanie Harley

Chapter One
     
    I looked down in horror as I watched the scales tick over two more pounds to the right since last week. I stepped off the scales and anxiously placed one foot back on them and then the other and I prayed that this time the result would be different. I weighed myself every Monday and at one point in my life, that had been a day that I dreaded because it meant that I’d be going back to work, but now my hatred of Mondays had a completely different reason.
     
    “Amy! Come back to bed,” Richard, my husband shouted. How could I come back to bed after this? Now I knew that I was heavier than I did less than five minutes ago, my whole body felt like a frumpy dead weight. I turned around to face the mirror and hoped that when I opened my eyes to look at myself, I’d see a whole different person looking back, but no, there I was. I posed my body in several different angles to try to convince myself that I only looked plump because of the bright lights in our ensuite bathroom. What had happened to that beautiful girl who stood at the altar, happy and so in love? I still desperately loved my husband but as I looked down at my stomach, I couldn’t help but feel unsexy. He had the body of a Greek statue but he was far more endowed. There wasn’t a muscle on him that wasn’t toned to perfection and yet here I was, tipping the scales once again.
     
    There weren’t many Mondays that went by lately where I hadn’t gained something and it was chiselling away at the little amount of self-esteem that I had left. I hadn’t always been this big, I was a runner when Richard first met me but somewhere along the way, I had woken up one morning and I couldn’t recognise the chubby woman that looked back at me in the mirror. I blamed it on the cosy nights in that we had watching TV boxsets. He’d bring home an array of snacks that I would devour but I knew that it couldn’t be because of that since he never gained a pound of anything, except muscle. When I thought back over our nights together, I couldn’t remember him ever eating any of the food that I would, he’d drink water and then eat a banana after dinner and that was it. We’d go shopping for food and he’d pressure me to treat myself as we filled the shopping cart with all of my favourite snacks.
     
    Over time my loose fitting jeans became snug, then tight and then unwearable but I just shrugged it off and bought new ones. I didn’t mind at first, my ass got bigger and my already large breasts certainly had a boost, but each week that the scales ticked over, I worried that my husband would eventually be repulsed by me. I’m ashamed to admit that when I first started getting bigger, I demanded that we could only make love if all the lights were off and we were under the bed covers. It hurt him deeply as I refused his touch and I somehow convinced myself that he was angry about my weight instead of my constant rejection. The fear of him realising how big I’d become brought me to a point where I’d wince as he caressed my body in case his hands felt something that he wouldn’t like. One afternoon after we hadn’t made love in a couple of weeks, he came up behind me while I was washing the dishes and groped at my hips as he kissed my neck. I craved his touch but my anxiety would rise as he seduced me. He kept telling me that I was sexy but as he reached his hand up towards my stomach, a wave of fear crashed over me thinking that he’d feel my curves and be disgusted. I pushed him away but he’d had enough and stormed out. It took me a while to believe that he was still attracted to me even though I didn’t truly understand how he could be.
     
    He barged into the room and I hid my body with a towel.
     
    “What are you still doing in here?” he asked, as he looked first towards my tearful face and then down at the scales that he venomously hated. He came in wearing his boxer shorts but I could see that his cock had been waiting for me to come back