>>30862
And so, he did.
Stretches, squats, push ups (often done together), and just light exercise to keep her joints limber and adjust her muscles to the added weight. She worked up a bit of a sweat, and he supplied her with plenty of water to drink. She was quite fit to begin with, so it was he who ended up tiring out first.
"Awww, what's the matter, Mox-Mox?" she asked, impishly "Can't handle a few sit-ups?"
"Just... Give me... A moment..." he panted, soaked in sweat as well "You have... Plenty... Of... Energy..."
"Well, ah AM tha bruiser of tha team..." she replied matter-of-factly, with a smirk "Now, c'mon! Let's take a shower, an' then yah can cook me sum' grub!"
At the word "shower", he immediately perked up, and soon, it was he who was tugging her into the bathroom, tossing off his damp, sweat-soaked clothing while she laughed. But that laughter soon gave way to a moan, as they made out under the falling, hot water. He was thorough in his scrubbing, but those swaying cheeks with her nethers playing peek-a-boo with him soon eroded his concentration, and before long, she found herself pushed against the milky glass, as he took her from behind, watching as her new bubble butt jiggled, and reaching down to catch those swaying breasts.
They needed a second shower after that.
The feast he prepared was even larger than before, and now included various pastries for dessert. She ate with gusto, and knew how to pace herself. Even so, she would eventually lean back, and allow her husband to feed her, as the last of the meal proved to be too exhausting to eat alone.
Afterwards, it was a slow crawl into her now creaking bed, with both of them nursing her big, round stomach, tails wrapped around it, as it groaned and gurgled, digesting. Soon, he had fallen asleep against her, leaving her to ponder... Was this all worth it?
The full feeling was nice, but her belly felt stressed, and her clothes were already struggling to fit.
But then, she felt something hard against her but, and Moxxie's hug tightened... Seems like even in his sleep, he was more than drawn to her.
Smiling to herself, she laid a hand on his, drifting up to sleep, worries alleviated.
And so, they fell into the routine, with Moxxie getting up earlier to make them breakfast, her following suit, admiring her growing form in the mirror as she did so.
Her thighs and calves thickened, muscles keeping pace with the fat, while her hips broadened to baby-begging width. Her belly would eventually grow down to serve as an apron (a billowing, multi-folded one at that), and provide some decency, covering up her plumpened pelvis and mons pubis, while her breasts continued their expansion, sagging little, and remaining mostly pert. Her short stature meant that the weight was most profound, and though her bingo wings hid ample muscles, she still found herself hindered by her own width at times. It wasn't long before the doorframes began to brush against her hips, then breasts, too. Her plump face (steadily growing a second, then third chin, as her chipmunk cheeks grew into jowls) flushed red, then, first, from embarrassment, but then, from arousal.
Breakfast was, though broad in variety, was still comparatively light (well, compared to her growing appetite and capacity), allowing her to easily follow it up with exercise (tops and sweatpants being the only that still fit her, eventually), under Moxxie's guidance and company (with him joining in so she wouldn't feel like she was busting her chops alone)... Although, they soon upgraded the process to "sexercise", as all the sweating, pushing, moaning and stretching awakened HIS appetite. A shower followed (with more sex, despite the shrinking space in the cabin), and then, while she relaxed, he went on to prepare her big meal. The feast would then last from afternoon to evening, as Millie packed away more and more, leaving her belly drum-tight by the time she finished, with her increasingly reinforced chair groaning and creaking.
While she could shovel it all in most of the time, she preferred to have Moxxie feed her, and rub her belly as he did. His hands caressed and dug through her rolls, rubbed her lovehandles and pinched her ass, or sometimes, when he would get extra frisky, they would reach into her top to play with her breasts.
Reaching down into her pants was proven to be a greater challenge, and with her saving all that energy by having him feed her, she could still allow him to scratch that mutual itch they had once they've gone to bed (which soon rocked, under her shaking and quivering form, as he panted, finally being able to reach her flower in more than one way).
Her thighs and asscheeks shook with each thrust, her belly swayed before it reached the bed when she was on all fours, after which it could only quake, growling and grumbling as it digested, and her breasts jiggled and jittered.
Of course, all that eating and fattening wasn't without its side effects. While her regular (s)exercises kept the most dire effects at bay, she still found herself huffing and puffing, though moving with relative ease. Her belly, though used to being filled to the brim (she was a farm girl, after all, and knew how to pack it away), was often less than happy with the extravagant meals her hubby would prepare, just to surprise her with something new. Even the beans on toast didn't sit right during exercise.
Thus, her often overfed organ groaned and gurgled, causing her to belch more and more. Moxxie didn't seem to mind, and would always offer to rub her gut, or prepare some antacid, if needed. More embarrassing was the gas her ass was producing, being both loud and rank at the same time, and increasingly frequent, too, especially during exercises. She would regularly ask Moxxie not to stand behind her, less a deep cheek-flapper came roaring out from behind, dousing him with her stink and sweat. And yet, Mox seemed to just soldier on - if he was disgusted, he didn't comment, and his smile remained unbroken, though, as she grew larger, still, less and less time was spent making out in the shower, and more on actually scrubbing her squeaky clean.
The feasts have also brought out the piggish side of her, and she was often quite glad that she used the tablecloth as a bib, for the number of foodstains she made only kept growing with her weight. Hell, even eating made her sweat at this point, and soon, Moxxie incorporated a second shower before bed.
A bed, which had all but collapsed at this point, as Millie's belly was threatening to reach the floor, while her hips flared out to the point where no doorframe could allow them through, forcing her husband to... "Modify" them, with a sledgehammer. Her ass jutted out like a shelf behind her, with the back of her lovehandles and rolls being layered on it. Though relatively dimple-free, thanks to the frequent exercise, her massive cheeks still sagged a bit, her thick tail curling lazily between them, with the frequent farting and sweating leaving it rather swampy. She could still spread them easily, which was good for their nightly bedroom activities (as well as for her lengthy trips to the toilet), so that's what mattered to her. Her thunderthighs and fat calves shook and quivered with each step, and though she had avoided joint pain so far, she was getting more and more easily winded. All this extra weight down low and at the back was more than necessary to balance out her now enormous breasts. Though still large and pert, sagging had now definitely entered the picture, as they now draped over the shelf of her bulbous, multi-rolled belly, with her stack of chins and jowls, pinched somewhat between her plush shoulder, crowning it all well. Her bingo wing arms would frequently reach down to rob the fleshy apron she now had, if only to give her rolls some air.
Moxxie remained close and supportive, and despite the sweat, the gas, and... Other effects, he clung to her obsessively.
He'd changed, too, as all the exercise, regular eating and just hard work needed to pamper her (to mention nothing of the stamina he needed in the bedroom) had made him fit. Buff, even!